Response piece
Amanda C. Brainerd
Inspiration piece
A Love Letter Home, Wherever that May Be
By Meghan E. Hunt
She wonders, briefly and in solitary moments, if you can miss a place in the world you once despised. Is that allowed, she asks the universe. The universe does not answer, much to her dismay.
The mountains were right outside my bedroom window. Every day I said good morning to them, every night I wished them sweet dreams. I do not sleep well now that I am gone and my mountains are so very far away.
You were not happy there, they say, as though reminding her will keep her feet still. I am not happy here, either, she tells them. There is no balance between past and present; she hopes to find it somewhere else in the future.
I do not make this decision lightly, despite what the others may have told you. I’ve considered a great number of venues, of choices, and I always come back to this one – to you.
She believes herself unnecessary. The others are settled in their happiness, too busy for past pursuits. She knows they will miss her, but feels the hole left behind her will fill in quickly, like sand being pulled away at high tide.
I am trying to get there, seeking ways in which my homecoming is possible beyond the fiction I write with my own hand. It may take a while longer than I want, but know I’ll be back soon. I’ll be home.
She’s gone already, though she’s still there. And they miss her even now, even as she sits beside them. She was right there next to them for so long; they do not sleep well when she is far away.
I’ll see you soon, love.