The Missing Piece

Do you remember reading that book, "The Missing Piece?" when you were younger?

I do. I remember reading it when I was in third grade, when the rest of my class was taking a spelling test. I never had to take spelling tests, as I was reading (and spelling) at the high school level in third grade. I always went to the library during spelling time instead. Anyhow, the librarian, Mrs. Lyons, introduced me to Shel Silverstein on one of those days, and I vividly remember reading about the Missing Piece.

The protagonist, whose startling resemblance to Pac Man cannot be overstated, rolls bumpily about everywhere looking for his Missing Piece - the piece that would complete him. Happily, he eventually finds it. That's the wonderful part about most children's stories - there's a happy ending. The protagonist and his piece merge, becoming a harmonious whole.

Why am I nattering away about a children's book, you ask? Simple, say I. Listen:

For the last eleven days, I have been missing a piece. My daughter, the wondrous - and admittedly occasionally bratty - Miss Peanut, has been tearing up the coast of South Carolina with her grandparents - Grandma and The General. This is the longest I have ever been separated from my child in her nearly seven years of existence. While I will not lie and tell you that my existence has been barren and soulless in her absence - I had quite a bit of fun, actually - I have to admit that there was a certain amount of melancholy each time I passed her bedroom door.

I missed our nighttime snuggles and questions. I missed her crackling vibrance every morning. The house was quiet, tomblike even, without the noise a child brings. There were no new discoveries of commonplace phenomena. No new stories? told in questions? ending in laughter? Even the dogs moped about, flopping by my feet when I chanced to sit down, wondering where their tormentor had gone.

Well, today, she's back. We talked, we laughed, we snuggled, and we made lots of noise. We've made plans for tomorrow which involve a trip to the supermarket and an afternoon break with cartoons (the General doesn't have a television - Miss Peanut went through cartoon withdrawal) before a dip in her Uncle's pool.

I'm a happy mama again. My missing piece is back.