Dear Blair, Love Looms (JENLISA)

Letter 4

Dear Blair,

How do I even begin to explain what I've realized about my feelings in this letter? How am meant to put into words what I feel when feelings are intangible and although I could try my best to describe them to the best of my ability, I think I will fall short in doing so. How will words suffice the immensity of what I feel for you?

I guess, maybe I should start in the beginning but now that I've written that down, when exactly was the beginning of all of this? Was it when we were really young and I cried when you had to go to dance camp because I was gonna be lonely all summer or maybe I cried because I hated the idea of you not being by my side.

Was it when we were in high school and you told me about your first boyfriend and you began to cancel plans and traditions that we had and I swore to any deity that had been listening to my fifteen year old self crying in the corner of my room that I could feel my heart breaking, pieces chipped one by one the more you apologized for not being able to come.

Was it when we were about graduate high school and you came to my room looking like a mess and told me that you weren't moving in another state to go to college because you didn't want to be away from me, that you didn't know how to do life without me.

Or was it when we finally became independent young adults and we were moving in our apartment together and you turned to me with the biggest smile on your face and I said something about this being our first home and you said, "Anywhere with you had always been home, Looms."

Maybe the truth had always been simmering at the bottom, B, waiting to boil over and spill when it reached its boiling point, when it became overwhelming that I could no longer shrug it off and pretend that it's not burning me whole. I think I could've easily ignored the heat and pretended that it didn't sting me in the same way that we used to pretend that a hot surface didn't hurt us just so our mother's wouldn't be pissed at us burning ourselves.

I think the conclusion dawned on me after my mom left our apartment. It was just one of her visits and while I do appreciate the day trip that she would take just so she could see me, it wasn't something I looked forward to. My mother and I didn't have the best relationship. She always seemed to put her nose in my business and ask questions I didn't want to answer and call me out on being messy and not fixing the apartment and never doing anything right in this lifetime, as if I was nothing but a disappointment because I didn't pursue a medical career and became a doctor like she bragged to her family back in the Philippines.

But my mother liked you and sometimes, I wondered if she there was ever a time that she prayed to her God that in her next lifetime, she could have you as her daughter. I'm almost certain that she would have done it. And you liked her too. You loved her cooking and you were always excited whenever I told you that she was coming, even when you knew that we didn't have the best of relationship. I think it's the only reason that I could tolerate having her around. You always ate more whenever she made us any meal.

"What are you doing?" You had asked when you saw me fluffing every throw pillow we had in the living room. I didn't answer you. I was busy trying to make sure that nothing was out of place and that there wasn't any dirt or lint anywhere. Mom would start nagging the moment she sees something mismatched or dirty. Well, she would still nag whether she didn't see anything. She never needed a reason to call me out on something.

The longer it took me to answer you, eventually, it just dawned on you. "Linda's coming. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

There was no panic in your voice but you began to help me out, vacuuming the floor once more even if I had already done it when you were showering. You arranged the pictures we had in the living room, and started to fix the kitchen. "Do you want me to duck out to get something for breakfast?"