Mia Hill. College bound with an athletic scholarship. A go-getter with big dreams and a fully thought out plan to make sure they come true.
But with her father's release from prison looming and the inevitable stresses of adulting, everything she wa...
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October 30th.
It's a date that's been carved into my mind, lingering in the background and taking up space in nearly everything that I do. It felt forever away when I first read it on the State Records website three weeks ago. It seemed like a date in some distant future that I could just keep ignoring. But each and every time I got out of bed in the morning, it meant I was one day closer.
And now I'm here.
There's a stack of letters in my hands. It's heavy, weighted in so much damn pain, fear, and unknown. I haven't opened a single one since I got to college. I haven't opened most of the letters that take up space in the box under my bed back home. It's safer keeping them sealed, leaving them in that realm of denial and unknown. If I read them, if I sort through his words, then I have to face it. I have to face him. And I'm not ready for that.
But there's something different about today. The air feels different, the way my clothes cling to me feels different, the pace of my heart feels foreign. And for some reason, the most recent letter, dated just last week, is staring at me, screaming with all its might for me to open it. It would have been the last letter he sent before his release. It's the one that contains his plans for the future, for us. The one that terrifies me the most.
Part of me wants to bury it back in the bottom of my drawer, to hide it away and pretend it doesn't exist, just like I do with the rest of them.
But something feels different.
I take a deep breath, feeling the strained air infiltrate my lungs, swirling around before making its way back out. My finger is sliding beneath the seal before I've had a chance to change my mind. Slowly pulling the letter out, another wave slams against my chest as I pull it open, his handwriting sailing across a crisp white background.
Mia,
I've thought about this day a lot. I've imagined it in so many different ways. Now that it's actually here, I can't seem to figure out where to begin. I miss you ...
I can't. My eyes drift to the ceiling, the letter turned upside down within my lap. I can't read these words, I can't begin to picture who he's become, to pretend like everything's okay because time says it is.
I don't know what comes next. Is he going to try and see me? Do I... should I see him? I know that I don't want to. I know that I'm not ready but there's this heavy weighted obligation that keeps pulling me down. It's pinned me to the ground every time I've thought about this day, holding me in place until it's become difficult to breathe.
I need to get out of this room, away from these reminders of him, of that night. I need home.
Seeing as I can't actually be in the comforts of my own home at the moment, sitting with the people who always seem to know how to bring me calm, there's only one other thing to do. One other thing to bring me a hint of the comforts of home.
