Letter: Dear Summer

Dear Summer

Do you remember when we were laying on the train tracks across town, along the withered projects of Chicago? I whispered ghost stories in your soft pink ears; I wanted to unsettle you into maybe not leaving me completely, always keeping at least one call. I gazed up at a blurry star and imagined us there, you and me, you and him, still pertaining what I once held onto. Your phone went off; you flipped your thick red hair over your eyes, to mop up teary mascara, (some of the ends were black). You answered your father’s message, thanked him for having his new wife pack up the rest of your things, and then clicked off. (I was crying a few days later for the fact that you said you honestly didn’t care for her too much). I recall pulling out a small piece of photo paper, and writing in sharpie a classic motif, Do you want the moon, I’ll pull it down for you. I stroked your hair and brushed it off your face, you laughed between sniffles and hics, joked about not being lame… or weird I can’t remember which one, and replied that you wanted it to stay here with me, I was the one who always secretly wanted the planets, but I gave them to you, the celestial bodies (That’s why your father left all those wall hangings of the different cosmos regions in the basement, I guess you were hinting at it). Neither of us believed the moon landing, I think you mentioned your father didn’t either, had no reason to, any conscience need to. Actually I shouldn’t tell you this but he (hopefully) didn’t believe it because I didn’t, I won’t believe that humans have ever been there, it would shatter my dream of the unknown. Then I’d have to start buying pictures of the deep blue (no thanks). It was almost two AM before you decided to leave. I kissed you on the cheek, (I hope you forgot the part where you asked me if I had to stay. And I said I do, always, what I must do because I cannot undo it, god was I hesitant.), picked your bags up, and wished you luck in your new life, I even apologized (for the one hundredth time) about having to stay here and be with them, I hoped you understood that night, I’ll always love you, write again soon alright.

Sincerely, you’re favorite Mother

P.S – I’d love it if you could come down this Christmas and meet Robby and the kids, reply soon and love you again,( it took me an hour to write what followed this) goodbye my only daughter.