Come home.

“Nelson, I don’t remember the last time she enjoyed rain. I don’t see her making herself a cup of coffee to keep herself up for the entire night. She doesn’t match her nails to her shoes anymore. She doesn’t buy balloons and tie them to our neighbour’s bicycle. She watches tv for hours and doesn’t cry seeing someone die on screen. I can’t recollect the last time she asked me to pose for a picture. I miss her giggling. She goes to her room just after dinner and doesn’t make a sound at all. I knock her door and she just says, “Sleep, I am sleeping in ten.” But, the room lights are on. She doesn’t get excited when I make cookies. She doesn’t get angry at me when I don’t tell her a story. She is okay about almost everything. And that scares me. I want her to do what she wants, and not just silently settle down for things. I want her to be what she was, and not turn into someone so dull. Nelson, I know, you are too busy to do something. But, if at all, please come back home. She misses her daddy, and honestly I miss you too.”


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