I wrote this a few nights before Christmas and, for some reason, it’s been sitting in my drafts folder. But I’m publishing it now because I felt this way and still do.

I miss her every single day of my life. I miss her when I pass by the cemetery. I miss her when I drive by her house. I miss her on her birthday, my birthday and most especially at Christmas.

When I was little I would go with them to Raleigh on the weekends to see the symphony. She taught piano, he loved piano and I was a student with some budding talent. We would watch and listen from good seats, looking at the gleam of the horns, straining to hear the sound of the woodwinds. I loved it, though sometimes I found it boring. I never found The Nutcracker boring, however. I loved getting dressed up every year and going several times. My Girl Scout troop would go and then my grandmother would always take me. “Sit to the left of the stage,” she would say. “You have to be able to see the hands of the pianist, even if they’re in the orchestra pit. If you can’t see the hand positions you can’t understand the movements.” My grandfather would watch, mesmerized, as the musicians played their instruments feverishly and ballerinas twirled around candy canes and Christmas trees.

Tonight on public television there was a Russian version of The Nutcracker, which I watched beginning to end. And then I found the Raleigh handbell choir performing holiday music, which included pieces from the ballet as well. I played handbells as a child, and I will never forget our recitals in church, getting dressed up again in my Christmas dress, running down the halls by the Sunday school classrooms, waiting for my turn to walk into the sanctuary, play my alto bells or my flute or the piano, and see them smiling from their pew in the middle. She would close her eyes and bob her chin a little, nodding her head sometimes to indicate emphasis, or to help me remember something she had told me to do. Lift your wrists a little more. Start soft and then build to a crescendo. Not too fast! If you rush I will know it.

I can’t help but sob right now thinking about her. My heart aches and my stomach hurts and I can’t see through my tears. I want them back so badly.