It has been about four years, and still, when my children are gone, I find myself looking for them. Part of me aches, and wishes the feeling will pass. Most of me is glad I have that connection to my little ones, and hope I'll always feel that way. I remember herding cattle with my ol' friend NM and her family, and occasionally the calves would get separated from their mothers. If I remember correctly, both cows and calves would call out to each other, the calves patiently waiting for the first sight of their mother, sometimes blocked behind a fence that needed moved by the rancher. After catching the glimpse of their returning mother, the calves would gallop across the field, and follow her wake.
I remember reading a story once of an otter who gave birth to a baby otter who had died. She held it, rubbed it, swam with it, whatever she could to revive it. She fought for her baby to live, even though it was too late.
As I returned home from the grocery store the other day, with Bear, Peach came crawling toward me as fast as she could, crying for me. I could not help but think of baby chicks in a nest peeping frantically, as their mother bird approaches, soon soothed by her presence.
I am not necessarily a "nature lover", or even an "animal lover", but I am a natural being, and I miss my babies every day I am separated from them. I wonder if my mother, whose children are adults, ever feels this way?
Happy er...Father's Day. Yes, I have no tact, or timing.
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