I’m writing early because I won’t be able to tomorrow. I’m working all day and then we’re going out of town to see cousin Ryan. I’m glad to go on a road trip. I haven’t seen him since Mom (Jess) and I were in New York in late 2015. How very less worrisome life seemed. I didn’t know that Halloween in Florence that the last Halloween where I’d see you had passed, nor the last Christmas at Sara’s (surname blanked for privacy, though I think both her first and last name are common enough) house in Ohio. Alas, it feels selfish now that I ever went on vacations instead of staying home. That was my hamartia.
I won’t tell you where we’re going, but we will be in Oregon. I don’t like shouting my location into the internet box, however unlikely murder is.
There’s little to say again. My non-Mom-application-recommendation-letter-motivated research paper is researchly stressful. I have to go to a work party dressed as a Friends character, equally stressful. How are you? I hear midterms are a thing that exists. I hope you’ve done or will do well; tests are awful. And I got to take mine mostly alone. I send you my belief in you. Even if you get an F- and fail out of school, I still miss you the same.
Christmas is always the saddest time of year for me. I wonder if you heard Mom yelling or me crying outside in 2016. The first thing I forgot about you and Mom (Mel) were your voices, but I can still hear her saying, “Soren’s not available,” and “John, get Soren upstairs.” Why, oh why, oh why. Was it not frightening to be taken upstairs? Why would Mom do that to you?… Did she traumatize both of us that day?
I remember one day in the car Mom (Mel) telling me she’d be there at my prom; she said she’d be up on a podium or suchlike and point me out, say “That’s my daughter,” and embarrass me. I still think about it often.
Maybe I’ve mentioned that one before. I don’t remember much anymore; I keep a diary because of it. Here’s the ‘every memory I have of Soren’ document. Perhaps you’d like to see it. There’s much speculation. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1JWhid5aRO3SQGAUloT7PNMJ7NvLom5OFzR1iFPrlQOI/edit
I’m going to go scoop litter. I love you. Goodnight.
With love,
Alice