Love Always, Nic...

I got your letters today.

It was weird, honestly—just walking to the mailbox like any other day, and then there they were. Three plain envelopes, your handwriting a little shaky, maybe rushed. I stood there for a second just staring at them like they might bite me or disappear.

I didn’t even make it inside. Just sat down on the steps, tore one open, and started reading.

They were short. You wrote about how tired you are, how early everything starts, how you’ve never had so many people yell at you before breakfast. You even said you’d thought about going to church just so you could sit for a little while.

And then, at the end, you said you miss me. Just like that. Not a big dramatic moment—just one little sentence tucked between “I’m doing okay” and “I think I’m getting used to it.”

It hit me. Harder than I expected. It made everything feel real. Like, yeah, you're really gone right now. You're really doing this.

It’s strange, not hearing from you every day. I’m so used to the random texts, silly memes, the way you’d send me reels on Instagram like it was your full-time job. Now I just... wait.

But these letters, even if they were short and a little scattered, meant everything. It felt like a small piece of you made it home for a minute.

So, thank you. I’ll write you back. Not sure what I’ll say yet—probably nothing big. Just everyday stuff. What the cats have been up to. What I made for dinner. What reminded me of you.

7 more weeks to go.

Love always,
Nic