“I wish”, she said.

“I wish, too”, I thought.

In the bus I mentioned to her how I thought we were similar. How I’ve been there, feeling lost. It is noone’s moral obligation to hold your hand and guide you, but sometimes it’s nice to hear someones been there. Makes you feel you’re not alone.

I wish I could tell her how my impulsive decisions cost me so much. She said she wished I stopped her. But how can I deny someone the solace of home. The same solace I crave so terribly. When she told me she needs to be by mother, it’s not about location. It’s not about going thousands of kilometers away from where you are. It’s not about being with mother even, because you can be with her after a few weeks, months.

It’s her knowing what home is. It’s the solace of knowing where she can feel at home. It’s unfortunate that I didn’t steer it in a way I got her to stay. But after hearing what she wanted, it clicked in me– it would be selfish of me to deny her her solace. I didn’t want it to stick in her mind and her heart that she doesn’t have something to rely on. I would want that something to be me, but I guess I still need to work on that.

Anyway, this has become more like a journal entry now. So I’ll forget the structure I had in my mind and keep writing mindlessly. I read her old letters today. The ones she wrote with such hope and optimism.
“My Sun, I’ll miss you.”, she said in one of those. I kept reading a bit more until I got the sudden urge to write this.

I worked a lot in the house today. Chores. Boring, but they kill time. I wish we did this together. I wish we tore down this entire house down together before we left it, just the way we built it together, one piece at a time.

That is what I meant when I asked her how all of this can be so quick for her. Maybe I couldn’t find better words then, or maybe she didn’t understand well enough, or maybe she understood, but it didn’t matter as much in the moment.

I wish we did all of this together. Sorted the books, just like we collected them over the year. Washed the clothes, one last time. Made food one last time. Manic cleaned one last time. Decorated it in a hurrry one last time. Looked at the house and reminisced on the year, one last time. When I said what I said, I was thinking all of these thoughts. But if she tells me she needs to be home, well, this one just simply doesn’t matter much in the moment.

So what she’s not here. I would do it for us. It hurts to do it alone. But it’s necessary. So I must do it. I will do it.