Until the Cows Come Home

We spent this weekend with friends up in the mountains. It's a good way to spend the weekend.

The last time we spent the weekend together was last winter with Samantha in tow.

Saturday evening the 'older' girls sat in the hot tub drinking wine and watching the sun set over the mountains.

And Samantha came up in the conversation, like she usually does.

"I felt like something has been missing this weekend," my friend Jill said. "She should be here with us. Bart should be making her do tummy time and she should be protesting. She should be here, wiggling on the floor."

I smiled. I, like every Mom love talking about my children. I think about her every hour but I love it when someone else thinks about her too. I love it when someone tells me they miss her. It reminds me of what a tiny, force of nature she was.

I looked into the bright, pink sky and smiled at the presence of her that I felt. Even the air smelled like Samantha.

And the the four 'little' girls came running out into the hot tub and it was an entirely different conversation...talks about the Little Mermaid, baby sharks and stinky feet.

We soaked until our hands pruned and soaked some more.

I will love Samantha stories forever, until the cows come home, and they leave and then they come home again.