You’re sitting with your back to me, like you always are. I wish I could tap on your shoulder and say, hey, nothing’s changed.
I realize that this is probably the first time you’ve heard me laugh in over a year. I know you’re probably feeling glad for me and also have a little sinking feeling. Like maybe you miss me. I don’t know.
Tonight is a good night, just a few climbers goofing off, trying to forget the fact we don’t want to go home. I don’t want to think about the missing in my core, or all the thoughts and fears that will descend on me as soon as I’m alone, not distracted. But I guess it’s good that I can laugh sometimes, and that people don’t always look at me like I have two heads when I do. I’m still not happy. But I’m learning it’s okay to be grateful for the moments that make life brighter, even as I wish you were in every single one of them.
But this is what I want to tell you.
I miss you. I want you to have the best life you can have… but I wish you were in mine.
Whether I’m laughing or crying, near or far away, know that I never forget you,
that you’re everything to me,
and every day, I wish I could go home to you
because that is what you are
to me.