Writing Letters to Home #1

This is a response to my own challenge: Writing Letters to Home. You should take it up, too, and link to your posts in the comments on the original challenge post page ! I want to read them!

——–

Dear Jameson,

 

Sometimes I wonder what you think of me.

Sometimes I wonder if you think of me at all.

It’s hard to read your face from across the table or from across the world.

No distance makes it easier;

No space makes it any clearer.

Sometimes I want to smooth the lines from your brow

And make you not think of me at all.

 

I hardly think about you,

Which frightens me until my chest pinches tight.

I think of all the people who forgot me;

Of all the people soon to forget me.

Then I think of you–and you can’t forget me, right?

Even with oceans between us, you remember.

 

But what do you remember, I wonder?

The kid you found covered in rags and dirt

That you nursed to be a survivor and a warrior?

Or the person I came to be that had none of that?

I found riches in war

And slaughter and catharsis.

I hope you remember the riches you found, momentarily, in me.

 

I hope you remember me.

Because I will one day forget you.

 

I live fully in the fact that I will go first

So that you may write my epithet–

Carve it into my tombstone or the gallows I am hanged from–

“She was the one who lived so that others may die.”

and I will never forget her

—–

This is between two characters from a story I am working on in private. A few chapters are here, but they are in no way final. It’s currently undergoing some heavy duty restructuring because I fail, miserably, at keeping my plot straight; I left a plot hole so big a train drove through it.

This is referring to the challenge a posted for myself and to whoever wants to take it up. If you have taken it up, let me know so I can read your ‘letters to home’!

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