[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 44 : Punctuation

She was Kristine the Omnificent. Every day, she would watch us from afar, diligent and aware, from the kitchen window. Never did she misplace her worry or care, while we played in the sands, swung on the swings and dashed along the grass. When we grew tired and hungry, she would appear with oranges, watermelon, and crackers. It was like she could see our empty stomachs, but then again, she was Kristine the Omnificent, my friend Suzzie's mother. 
 
 In the summer, Suzzie would tell me to come play along with our other friends in her backyard. She did n't have a pool, but she had a sprinkler, and on those hot summer days we would jump back and forth for hours. It was a part of my youth I had almost forgotten as I grew older and bore the weight of the world on my shoulders. That is, until I saw Suzzie four years ago. 
 
 Like any fated meeting, we were in line at a coffee shop and it had been years since we talked last. We went to different schools and communications collapsed, but now we were next to each other, anxiously awaiting our chai lattes. We were lucky too, we both had the day off and errands we did n't *need* to get to right away, so we found a table and talked. 
 
 There's something special about talking to an old friend. You know that your paths strayed long ago and what kept you apart will likely to continue to keep you apart, but there's still memories you share. Memories that you may not remember perfectly, or they may not, but together, you can rebuild them like a puzzle. It was then we talked about her mother. 
 
 I told her how great her mother was and asked how she was doing. Suzzie looked away for a moment before telling me her mother had passed away last year. It was cancer and it was aggressive. 
 
 She told me it was strange to watch your idol fall. Her mother was invincible to her. Then I told her my nickname for her mother. 
 
 `` Kristine the Omnificent.'' 
 
 Suzzie laughed with a few tears on the ridge of her eyes. It was a fitting name, she told me. Her mother always did seem to know exactly what we needed, exactly when we needed it. Then her phone rang, she realized the time and had to go. We promised to try and keep in touch and parted ways. 
 
 She was Kristine the Omnificent, protector of our world and as we grew older we realized her power may not have been infinite, she could not create and destroy worlds and she was not invincible. But she was a woman of love, an example I could look up to, and someone I knew I could be now that I was older. 
 
 As I watch my children play in the yard with their friends, I know how she must have felt. Watching the youthful innocence meander across grasses, imagining nonscene and full to the brim with shenanigans. With their simple needs, it would be the only period in life I would know exactly what they needed. So when I noticed their energy subside, their loud play quiet, there I was with watermelon, oranges, and crackers. And after a few minutes, they were off again. 
 
 Kristine the Omnificent, your spirit lives on. 

