start my day with a H & H bagel (poppyseed, pumpernickle or plain), toasted with butter and a coffee regular. I would drop my Sweetie off at preschool and take off walking south down Broadway and smile at every single person I make eye contact with. I would have KTU playing in my ears and sing along if the spirit moved me.
And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain
And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain
It's years since you've been there and now you disappeared somewhere
I'd spend a couple hours at the International Center of Photography and then hop on the subway and take it downtown to catch the Staten Island ferry, where I would go for a R/T ride and journal or write some song lyrics. I would reflect on the skyline that will never look quite right - even 4-1/2 years later - I can't and won't get used to that huge void where the towers once stood.
I would hope for an overcast day, so that I could justify that little bag of warm mini-chocolate chip cookies I want to buy inside the ferry.
Once back in Manhattan I would hit Canal Street and see what bargains I can score before I need to pick up my darling daughter from dayschool. I can picture her face, full of enthusiasm when she shows me the art she created and that will soon hang proudly on our refridgerator in our cozy apartment. I can dream of a brownstone, but will be thankful for what we have.
We will make a little dinner of pan-seared chicken breasts and rice, with some mandarin oranges. She will take a bath and "swim" in the clawfoot tub. We will pick out jammies, read books and then say prayers before I tuck her in. I tell her "I love you" and she says "Thank you, Mama." I say "God bless you, Sweetie" and she says "Thank you." I kiss her on her sweet head and smile a smile that only God and I can see. Her eyes are already closed and she has a strong-hold on Pink Kitty. I shut the door and thank God for one more day of being her mom.
I am so honored to be her mother.
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