Fighting For You (Letters To Harley)

Chapter Two

 

 

 

Dearest Harley,

I miss you more and more every second. When are you coming home again? It’s crazy to think that it’s only been three hours since I saw you last but it feels like a lifetime. The big house you love feels empty without you, hopefully I’ll decorate it nicely so when you come home you can relax! I really miss you. Write me when you can.

All my love,

Caroline

 

 

I flipped through the pages of my journal, I couldn’t sleep again. It seems whenever something big happens I can’t sleep, which I guess, is probably normal but I know it’s because of Harley. He should be here for Oliver’s first day of kindergarten.

 

Taking a deep breath I looked over to the other side of the bed, where Chris was sleeping peacefully to the ring on my finger. We were engaged to be married in six months.  I loved Chris, I did, but Harley was my first love. And I never got to say goodbye, like a proper goodbye.

 

A cold breeze blew in from the open window, next to the packed boxes, and I shivered. I felt like everything was changing so fast. Oliver was five already, we were moving out of the house Harley and I bought when we were married and Chris and I were engaged.

 

I pulled out a pen from the desk and began to write, like I did every night. I wrote to Harley mostly but I also wrote down other things too. I promised I would write to him everyday, how could I break that promise?

 

“Babe?” Chris groaned from the bed a while later, “What are you doing up? It’s nearly three.”

 

I gave him a small smile, “I couldn’t sleep.” I told him before going back to my letter. Chris sighed loudly and turned over in the sheets, he was asleep like that. I envied him, I wish I could sleep but it seemed that lately it was getting harder and harder too.

 

I felt myself growing tired the longer I wrote. The comfort of Harley seemed to ease my every thought and I let myself drift off to sleep in the chair.

 

“Mom?” A little voice asked while I felt tiny hands shaking me. “Mommy? I need your help.”

 

My eyes opened to see Oliver standing next to me, his pajamas on and his hair messed up. “Baby, what’s wrong?” I asked softly as I sat up.

 

“I made a mess in the kitchen.” He whispered, his face falling sadly.

 

I gave him a smile and put my hand under his chin so he looked at me, “It’s okay Oliver. Messes can be cleaned up. Let’s go see.” I took his hand and we made our way down the stairs, dodging boxes that lined the hallway.

 

As we walked into the kitchen I instantly sighed. Milk covered the counter and the floor. Next to the spilt milk was a box of cereal.

 

“Did you try to get breakfast all by yourself?” I asked him making my way over to the mess as I wiped it up.