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Every time I finish off one of these, I end up finding more I need to say to you. I keep waiting to hit that point where I stop trying to find you, where you're not the first person I want to run to when something happens but my hand's still cramping up and I'm still running through these notebooks. Be proud I've switched to the bargain paper instead of those fancy journals I used to get. They cost so much these days and I know you'd be more concerned with the content. I'm rambling, I know. Do you remember when we drove all the way out into the Mojave that one summer? We bought that terrible blanket because you said it reminded you of the sunrise and we sat up all night waiting for it. I still have that picture you took in my apartment. It's one of the only ones that I've managed to keep track of. We should've made it a postcard like you said though and written to our future selves. I would've liked to remind myself that those fights were never worth it and that you were always right about how the toothpaste should be squeezed out of the tube. I've been a lot better with that lately. Your green suitcase is still under the bed too. Packed with warm or cool weather clothes pretty much exactly the way you left it. I added a couple things I thought you'd need. I don't know why. Today's one of those days where I wish that I could see you. I miss the look on your face when I surprised you with things. I know you hated the wrinkles around the corners of your eyes when you smiled, but Mia, I really wanted to watch them grow until your face was a raisin just like your biggest fear. How could anyone have such a ridiculous fear? Losing you was mine. I know I used to tell you that it was spiders but we never made it to Australia and I'm pretty sure that tarantulas don't survive well in winter. I'm sorry that I lied about that. Sometimes I wonder if I'd just admitted it you wouldn't be lost to me. I know that's stupid because it's not like you picked this but I'm always going to wonder just how much of my dad's profession is elaborate deception and how much of it is real. After all, you've got to believe it a little bit to have it right? You know you told me the same thing about love once. I guess now that I can't hear you at all, I'm listening to everything you've told me. Funny how that works. There's something else, but it can wait. I want this last part to be about all the parked car nights we had. All the times I told you to keep looking at the stars or you'd miss the meteor shower. Every eyelash you pulled from my face and told me to make a wish on. Every kiss -- especially that last one because it meant the most. All the nights we spent in bed reading to each other. You know I never finished Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy? It was your turn and I'm really anxious to see how that one ends. Please come home when you get this. I made sure to print my new address carefully on the letter. I miss you Meemo. Sempre, ANDRE P.S. I still dream. Remind me to tell you about the penguins. |