Under the Oaks

 My mom was admitted to hospice today. 

I prayed this morning, on the way to my ultrasound, clutching my steering wheel in the Atlanta traffic, “God, please just let this little baby be ok. Please let her heart be beating and let her be healthy. Please.”


I was terrified that on the same day my mom was officially terminal I would lose my daughter. I mourned them both for that forty five minute drive.


But I didn’t lose her. Baby girl Hunnicutt is growing ahead of schedule. Her little heart beat was strong and so was she. The doctors and nurses beamed at me, “She is perfect!”


She is. She is perfect. 


I was so happy. I wanted to call my mom. 


Today was hard. Today it all sort of fell on top of me. The weight of it all. I can still smell my mom. I used to tuck my face into her neck when I was little. And I can still smell her mama smell. 


So I did what any grieving woman would do. I scrolled through Zillow. 


Many of you know I have a thing with houses. I know. Be happy where you are. And I am. But there is something about an old home. One with huge old oaks shading the yard and a big front porch. 


I found one. One right down the road but with some land. I imagined all the new memories we could make there. The big holidays and summers playing under the oaks. 


I know. It’s just a distraction . But it’s a pretty one. And who knows. Sometimes little miracles happen.

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