Dear You Part 4

Dear You,

I love you. I never tell you that, but I do. We are very similar, and I’ve only just begun to realize it. You are so strong, and I look up to you for that, well maybe not up physically because you’re shorter than me now. I think I passed you in about sixth grade. There were times when I thought you might slip, fall, but you didn’t. You pushed through everything: all the worries, all the stress, all the bloody mess that was made of your life, our lives, and you are a better person because of it. So many things changed in such a short amount of time, but you kept your head held high, even if you did recede from the social pool for a while, even if you did shut some people out for a bit. You carried on, and that’s what matters.

I’m proud of you. I never tell you that, but I am. After so many years of not working, and not having to do the daily grind like so many, you went out and found a job and stuck with it. It’s been three years, if I’m not mistaken, and for your first real job, I think that’s amazing. It was difficult for you at first, but you overcame your fear: of working, of living on your own, of computers. That silent confidence you and I share carried you through, and will always carry you through because you have strength in abundance. Thank you for passing that on to me.

I’m happy for you. I never tell you that, but I think you know. Your life is so much better now without the constant feelings of dread and worry. The black hole of negative energy that nearly sucked the life and good out of all of us is gone, and your color has come back. Your eyes shine. The universe is once again aligned and you are stable. Finally. It must be a relief to be able to breathe on your own again, after having carried someone and lived for them for so long. Your kindness is also your weakness, but we’ll work on that. One thing at a time, right? You’re free, and that’s the first and most important step.

I miss you. I never tell you that, but I’m telling you now. When you first got your job, I accidentally called you at home during the middle of the day and was perplexed when you didn’t answer. You always answered. Silly me, I’d forgotten that you were at work and that you couldn’t just pick up the phone anymore, couldn’t wait around for me anymore. I was a little upset when I first had that realization that you weren’t easily accessible any longer like you had been my entire life, but I got over that. Now I just call you at 6:15 when you step foot in the door after a long day at work. You still always answer my call, even if you’re weary, hungry, sleepy. I can hear it in your voice that you’re happy I called, even if you’ve got ten other things to do. I’m selfish like that. But you don’t seem to mind.

I love you. I never tell you that, but I do.

**A**