Letter Eleven

Hi dad.

It's me again. I hope you don't get a mailman with a tired look on his face saying, 'Just tell her already.' I get this look from him, 'Stop writing already.', but every day I wake up with new hope. The new ray of light shines my way, yet it darkens in such a short amount of time. The moment I hope for your letter to come through, you just descend me to the ground. I have shrunk so low that I don't go opening doors for the mailman. I can't see the pity look he gives me.

Mom's not holding up good. Her phone hasn't rung in years. She waits by the home phone so that she doesn't miss your call. But how would she miss it if it never came?

Just write something back, dad. Some closure, maybe? Something in between the lines 'I love you, but I won't be coming back.' because one thing I know for sure is that you aren't coming back. What I don't know is whether you love us or me anymore.