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gosh i miss you like crazy.

liz lamoreux

The stories are stacking up inside me, and instead of thinking about all that I should be sharing or what this blog should look like now that I've got a bright shiny new website coming out, I just want to share some of the little snippets of stories that I'm trying to catch. Like this one, shared over on Instagram earlier this week.

It's my last day in my 30s and I woke up with questions for my grandmother. I've lived a decade plus of birthdays without her voice singing in my ear. I've lived more than a decade of mornings unable to call her to say all the things.

So I walked around my yard this morning, like she did every day at her South Carolina home, and checked out the new growth. Letting in the crazy beauty that is this life.

And if I could, I'd call her and say:

I think these might be big purple blooms whenever they're ready. And the little pink guys, like the neighbor's have, are hanging in there. I want to plant a butterfly bush to invite in your hummingbirds. Mom says she thinks the two little ones under the maple are peonies and we've got to move them when it's not so hot because they don't get any sun. Imagine if I have peonies? The noise from the busy road is loud this morning. All those people zooming to work. I'm in the studio alone today. Writing and making a few things. It's a good life over here, even when it feels upside down. You'd love the light in this house. Might even change your mind about this part of the country. And oh how you'd love the energy and wit of the six year old living here. Gosh I miss you like crazy.