If you knew how many times I've thought about telling you something in the last few days... maybe you would come back. As if you could, right? And if you knew how many times I've needed your advice or just your comforting hug... Maybe then you would... no, of course not. Sometimes it seems like a lie. I can't believe you aren't at home waiting for me. If I let the light on in the bathroom, I fool myself thinking you're in there, reading. And if I call you and you don't answer is just because you've decided to ignore me, 'cause you're too deep into the book and not because you're not there at all.
Mama, there are days that I miss you more than I can handle.












