Dear Kate

Summer, June 10th. Dear Kate, It's warm out today. I'm at our spot under the dripping branches of the willow tree. It's late afternoon and I'm sitting here watching the sun prepare for sleep behind the hilltop. The sky is a stunning orange with stripes of bright yellow and patches of red on the horizon. I remember how much you used to love sunsets. I had another session today. I was reminded how significant today is by Dr. Findley. It's been so long that my days have started to swim into each other. I remember how his chubby face had wrikled when he grinned happily at me. Mom, dad and Dr. Findley see it as an achievement but I'm not sure I hold the same giddiness. 3 months. It's been three months since I started therapy. Four since you left me. Winter has passed and I remember feeling how the melting of snow in our backyard was synonyms to your departure- both suddenly yet expected. Dr. Findley believes a journal will help me overcome my grief but I have yet to see or believe any progress is achievable. I don't want to overcome anything. You aren't a disease to be healed from or an obstacle to climb over. You're a part of me that my eyes wish to see, my hands wish to touch and my heart wishes to love once again. It's been hard moving on in life when I know you're still stuck, frozen in a part of time unreachable to my starving hands. Mom is desperate for me to enjoy life again. I am too. I don't enjoy crying on your pillow case or wrapping my body in your favorite summer dress. I'd much prefer you. Mom believes she's found a way to help me. Dad is silent towards the topic as usual. He says nothing, gives nothing away but simply smiles. It's a forced smile. Dad hasn't smiled since you left. Dr. Findley agrees with mom and I'm sure if you were here, you would agree too. You always did take mom's side. I'm not sure how I feel about the scheme yet. His name is Tyson. He's new in town. He's a peculiar man. He's tall and skinny with tight curls on his head. His long face seems to make him taller while his thick pudgy nose seems out of place with his general slender appearance. His eyebrows are thick and black while his jawline is clean and sharp. I met him through Peter. Apparently Tyson found a job with old Tom Nickle at his warehouse in town. According to Peter, Tyson is an old family friend who; in his words, is 'down on his luck but with a heart of gold.' Last night, Tyson asked me out on a date. Mom says to take a chance but I'm hesitant. I wish you were here, you'd know what to do. Actually, I'm sure I know what you'd say if you were here. I can picture you now, standing in front of me with your arms on your small hips. Your blonde hair like mine would be tied up because you never could stand it against your neck in the summer. You would pout your lips in the way that religiously drove Drew crazy with lust and would wiggle your eyebrows suggestively. I can almost hear your gentle voice in the wind. "You can't be a prude all your life Bethany. One of these days you're going to have to fight through the fear and put yourself out there." To which I would automatically reply, "That's easy for you to say, have you seen yourself? You're gorgeous. Men actually want you. I have nothing to offer." You would sigh and hug me and I would immediately feel worth something more than a penny. "One day you'll see what I see." Without fail, everyday those words would find their way to me. I never told you this Kate but, I used to pray the day would come soon. Now; however, I'm afraid that without your confidence to lean on, I may never see the day. Regardless, I've chosen to take a chance. I'm not sure anything will come from the date with Tyson but it would be dishonorable to you if I didn't take the chance. Wish me luck Kate.