Far Away: Gone: Home

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April 7, 2020

Are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay?

Love? Honey? Baby? Hun? Babe?

It's okay. It's okay. It's okay.

I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine.

Yes? Yes? Yes? Yes? Yes?

I know. I know. I know.

I was tired of her questions and tired of my answers. The last few days had been a flurry of repetition. We were getting into a new rhythm and I hated it. A new normal meant things were normal, and they weren't. Never would be again. I sighed and buried my face in my pillow. I didn't bother to change out of my clothes; the shorts and tee I was wearing were comfy enough. I tossed a blanket over myself and tried to sleep. I failed pretty miserably, though.

"Mom?" I called out. She opened the door a moment later.

"In bed already?" She joked. I shrugged and nodded. "Rough day?" I nodded again.

"Do you want dinner?" I shook my head. "Alright. Well, what do you need?" I pondered the words. Then I whispered a reply.

"You," I breathed.

"Sorry?" She asked me to repeat it.

"Stay?" I begged quietly. She nodded and smiled sadly. Then she lay with me on my bed until finally sleep found me.

April 11, 2020

I woke early to the brightness of the morning sun. I yawned and reached beneath my pillow for my notebook and pen. I flipped through the pages, finding the next blank one. There weren't many left. I sighed and began to write another letter.

Kelly,

I miss you far too much. It is so hard here without you. You are probably getting tired of my letters and wishes and complaints,p; I am, too. It just sucks here without you. No way am I getting over this any time soon. I wish for your smile and your laugh. I wish for you to be back and safe and alive. Wherever you are, I hope you are happy. I love you.

Gracie-Pacey

I yawned and tucked the notebook back under my pillow, along with the pen I had used. I journeyed to the living room and began breakfast.

Mom joined me minutes later, and we enjoyed ourselves a bowl of Frosted Flakes and some yogurt. I smiled at her and didn't mention the letter. Hers nor mine. I think she was right through me because she asked;

"Have you written any more letters to Kelly?"

Yes. Every day. I have a whole journal of them under my pillow. She didn't need to know that, though. I shook my head and asked her if she had. She lied and responded with a 'no, it seems pointless.' I was disgusted but I didn't show it.

Instead I finished my breakfast and escaped to my room. I sat on my bed and cried into my pillow, unsure if I was upset at her or myself.

May 19, 2020

I had spent the month wishing for Kelly, just as I had the others. Me and mom weren't on the best of terms. I was angry at her for so many reasons, and she felt the same. I ignored her as much as I could, fighting the urge to pick at my nails or bite them. I did that when I was anxious. It was a miracle I had any fingers at all; the last few months had been rough. I pulled a notebook from under my pillow and read through the notes I had written.

Thirty-seven in all.

"Kelly," I recited. "I miss you. I love you. I know you won't get this letter but I feel good writing it. I wish you would write back. More than that I wish you were here. With me. The days have been hard. I'm struggling. I need you. It's obvious now, though I didn't see it before,