Argyle Socks!

Okay, I shouldn't have done it. I tried really hard not to open my mouth. But...
I was on a serious sock shopping mission and heard a young mother in the next aisle telling her young child "If you talk like that again, you know what will happen!" He asked, "What?" and she said "A smack in the mouth!" And she was serious. He asked, innocently enough, "But why, because I'm just trying to tell you something, Mommy." She was busy on the phone and talking to her friend who was also with her so her son was more of a nuisance at that point.
"Not my business!" I said to myself. But then she came around the corner, cute little four year old boy hanging on the side of the cart, chattering away, "What's that, what's this for, Mommy?" His two year old baby sister was in the cart seat babbling as well. Sure, it can be overwhelming in her situation, but she didn't even appear to even like them. I actually felt a pang of some sort so I physically put my hand over my mouth so I wouldn't say what I was thinking. I tried, I really tried... But then, she said, slowly and loudly,
 "So now, I want you to just - stop - talking because I am tired of hearing what you - are - saying."
Without another thought except for your voice in my head saying "Now, Mama, now!", off fly my hands and I went to her and explained it may not be my business and she could tell me to you-know-what, but that I had just lost my daughter and told her I would give anything, anything to have you talking to me, even if it was stuff I didn't want to hear. She just looked at me, so I continued. (I know, I know, I am getting too old to filter my thoughts sometimes!) "And" I continued, "What they are hearing is that you don't want to listen to them about anything." Her friend spoke up and said, "They're too young to remember this!" And I said, "But she will continue to say it so they will learn it well. You only have them for such a little time when they are young. And please don't be mad at them because I spoke to you. I only mean well." (Then I made a hasty exit!)
I hope you were just listening and smiling and maybe helping to safely hasten my exit.
I spend many hours at night reliving conversations with you from ones I loved, ones you loved, ones I wish we could have changed, ones that I don't know how they were received, ones that made us both cry, ones that had us laughing. I would give anything for another conversation with one of the most intelligent, thoughtful and thought-provoking human beings I ever knew.
I even miss our funny weather conversations from Fair Oaks to June Lake.
Summertime: "Oh my God, Mama, it is 72 degrees here. I hate this heat!" to which I'd reply, "Honey, it's 110 degrees here today!"
Wintertime: "Kenna, it's so cold, it's 40 degrees!" and you'd scoff and say, "Yeah? Try -14 degrees and shoveling snow, Mama!"
I even miss you telling me you were outside late at night next to your front door taking pictures of the bear trying to break into the trash container. I'd plead for you to go back in to be safe. You were never afraid of animals, not even the ones you should have been afraid of. Guess it wasn't the animals we should have feared, was it?
I especially miss the annual calls when you hit a deer. You reset your odometer every time to see how long it would be before the next one. How we all lived there forever and never hit one, but you, the lover and defender of all animals great and small, managed to find so many with your front bumper. "God, Mama, I hit another deer!" you'd cry over your cell phone on the highway, then abruptly end with "Gotta go!" and leave me hanging with worry. What I'd give to just worry about that again.
But what I miss most is when I'd say "I love you Kenna!" and you'd say "Yeah, yeah, yeah..." but  you'd sneak in a "Love you, too."
P.S. I bought you a pair of lavender and purple argyle socks. Stay warm.