Challenge 172: Dear Sally

Dear Sally,

I see you right now. Sitting on your day bed with the tie-dyed comforter on top. All around your room are pictures cut out from Rolling Stone. There's Kurt Cobain and Red Hot Chili Peppers and Blind Melon. Your stubs from all the KROQ concerts are lined up and your Weenie Roast poster is almost falling off it's tack. Your room is messy, cluttered. There is stuff everywhere, but every inch of the clutter has so much personality in it. You are so colorful. And as I look at you, you look gray. Quiet, withdrawn. There's no light in your eyes. You're cross-legged on your bed and you look small. Like a little girl. Averting your eyes. But I just look right at you. And give you silence and give you space and hold you from all the way over on the other side of the room. I don't invade your space or try to talk but you know that you can talk to me if you feel like it. I want to touch your hair. Get closer. But I don't. You wouldn't want that. I'm not waiting for you to do or say anything. I'm not imposing anything into your space. You feel as though I'm not here, but still very much tightly close.

You begin to talk and as you do tears start pouring out of your eyes. I don't move, or so or say anything. I just hear you and see you. And you keep going. I tell you it's ok to feel what you're feeling. And that's it. And I walk over to you and hold you. And that's it. I tell you I will never leave you and that you always have me right here. And that's it. You say you want to feel happiness. KNow what it feels like to not struggle. You want things to not feel so hard. And I hear you and I see you. And that's it.

With Love and far away hugs,
Sally