Things I don't know

I don't know what it is like to love a child who has grown up.

I don't know what it is like to lose something that I treasure above all other things.

I don't know what it is like to be the remaining spouse.

I don't know how to grow old.

I don't know how tall my children will be.

I don't know the depths of my husband, despite our years together.

I don't know what will happen tomorrow, despite my plans, despite my ideas. I definitely don't know about next year. And I don't know what the consistency of my friendship is, whether it helps in grief, whether I am as clumsy as a pup, or slightly okay.

I know that I love so much, clumsy as I am.