By: Little Ms. Jerk Muffin

Lingering

Ch.1: I’m Comin’ Home

How to say it, I wonder? It’s been so long since I’ve seen her. It would be just odd to randomly mail her and tell her the news. She would probably be shocked or confused.

I scoffed and sat up in bed. What was the point in pondering? She probably doesn’t remember me. That was all five years ago. We were so young back then- she’s probably moved on and forgotten all about me.

I looked around my now barren room. Boxes were stacked up to the ceiling and moth balls danced around the old wooden floors like ballerinas. My eyes landed on my desk across from me. It was old and green…everything was still on it; untouched and waiting to be packed. My eyes zoned in on the piece of paper and pen shoved to the side of one of the shelves. An envelope sat expectantly on the other side of the desk.

It wasn’t the first time since I heard we were moving that I had thought about writing her. The thought had tiptoed in my head for weeks. I tried to sit down and think of the right words that wouldn’t sound too intimate or too friendly. After all there was no way she could possibly remember me…After all it was five years ago… She would no longer be the little girl who I played with everyday. She would be a young lady who wasn’t interested in the same things anymore. No more fishing around in the mud for frogs, no more impossible missions to dig to China…

But I wasn’t the same anymore either…no. The truth was that ninety percent of me didn’t want to talk to her or rekindle any relations from the old town where I grew up. But that ten percent of me wanted to see her again.

You don’t deserve to see her again.

Still, that ten percent needed to be answered right? She may not respond, just like I never did to any of her letters that she had sent me.

I forced myself up off my bed and numbly strolled to the desk.

You don’t deserve to write her.

I sat down on the old office chair and picked up the pen and brought the paper to the front center of my desk. Then I froze; staring blankly at the paper.

What to say…What to say…I didn’t even know who I was talking to anymore.

You don’t know who you are anymore.

I pushed the words echoing inside my head to the back and tried to focus on the letter. What could sum it all up, without seeming sentimental? I wasn’t the sentimental type. It would seem totally out of character.

She wouldn’t care; the rest of the world didn’t care.

I put the pen down and glared at the paper. The voice in my head was right. The rest of the world could care less. She was part of the world right? That meant that she could care less too. I was just some childhood memory that she probably stuffed in a box and was shoved under the bed. She’s moved on; forgotten about me and has new friends.

I frowned slightly at my thoughts. How could I have been so naïve to think that she could care about me? The memories of childhood are vague; and as a child, you are blind to the world around you. We were so blind…so blind.

She’s probably forgotten you.

…Ninety percent of me didn’t want to talk to her to rekindle any relations from the old town where I grew up…But that ten percent was screaming for something I knew couldn’t be answered.

In one quit sweeping motion, I grabbed my pen and scribbled my message onto the paper that would soon be in the envelope and on its way to my old home town.

Remember me? It’s Kay. I’m comin’ home.