heart sick

Joe and I are about to go out to eat: Indian food. It is my favorite. With sushi and Mexican food a close 2nd, tie perhaps. He's in the shower, and I'm thinking about how much I like him. It will be a nice night. Just one, major, missing ingredient:

I just wish my little Eliza girl was here with us. I wish we could all go out to dinner together (she likes the chicken tika masala). Then, we would come home and watch an old black & white scary move, like the original Vincent Price's House on Haunted Hill, while eating popcorn. Joe and I would drink a beer or whiskey and Eliza would have a root beer, perhaps. Then, she would fall asleep on the couch, preferably with her head on my lap so that I could run my fingers along her face.

She's with her Mom and probably enjoying great food there, as well. Probably playing with neighbors or her cousin, who is staying with them at the moment. She is, no doubt, happy. Sometimes, that kills me entirely.

Her mom is a good mom. I just miss being the mom. I miss having her all of the time. Most of the time before that. I miss her. I miss her smell when she just showered. Her smell when she needs a shower. I miss her rolling her eyes. I miss her talking about her mom. I miss asking her what she did in school that day. She would reply with "I don't remember." I would say, "name 3 things before we get home." I miss her.