I'm missing my mom already. Here we are in the first weekday after she's gone home, and I miss her. I miss getting the kids up without her, I miss seeing her drink her tea at the table as she coordinates her breakfast and morning vitamins, planning the day's errands, chores, and activities.

It is a blessing that she has merely gone back home to the other side of the country. I can still call her on the phone, I can email her any time of the night or day. I can write her letters and hear her voice. She's not Gone, just located somewhere else. In the past year I've gone through a lot of changes, and she was an ever present commodity in my life- much as she was when I was my daughter's age. Those early memories blended so well with this past routine, as long as my mom drank her tea, sat down at the table to make her list for the day, nothing could really go wrong. Everything was still in the place it belonged. No matter the challenges, the tantrums thrown by small children, the tightness of our wallets, it was all alright.

Now I'm the anchor again. I'm the one that my daughter and son will be looking to for creating those morning memories. As long as mommy does certain things every day in the morning, it's all alright. Everything works out. We all remain happy and well-adjusted.

A heavy responsibility, but it lays lightly on my shoulders. All I have to do is be half the woman and mother that my own is. She tells me that I'm up to the task. I hope she's right.