B.,
I hope life is kinder to you these days. I hope good things come your way with frequency. I hope you're sleeping at night and not dealing with the monsters in your head, and I hope mornings have stopped suffocating you and instead fill your lungs with fresh air. I hope your second house is a home for you this time, and I hope Shay still brings to your heart the joy and comfort and love that you once upon a time received from me. From both of us.
Thirteen was to you, too, but I've never been able to publish it. I've never felt it was my place to express what's written there. They tell me it's normal, to still care after all this time, to still care despite everything that's passed, but all the same. It's not my right.
All the same. I hope that wind is at your back, now, and I hope that road has risen up to meet you. I hope, for you, everything. Everything and always.
