Dear Mom,

San Jose is a ridiculously large city. Of course I texted Donovan and Darrah to see if I could at least have dinner with them, and they insisted I stay a few days if I could find the time.

Like time is the problem here.

I’d barely pulled into their driveway before Donovan opened my driver door, and pulled me out of the car, wrapping me in a hug.

I could feel the breath catch in his chest and knew he was thinking of you.

He’d barely released me before Darrah’s hands were pulling me into her embrace.

They’ve hardly changed.

Still with the unnerving attention to the details of my life they’ve always shown.

Tears tracked down Darrah’s face when I told her about the memorial service, the music, and Dad’s face.

The memory of his face still makes my insides tense up.

I know you’ve been divorced for seventeen years, and I know it was the right decision for you two. But somehow when I saw that look on his face I know we’re thinking the same thing.

That the friendship between you two would have eventually rebloomed into love, and maybe after I graduated from college we would fly to Hawaii and you would renew your vows.

I used to think that was wishful thinking on my part, but when I saw Dad’s face, I realized he wanted the same thing.

There was never a time when he didn’t love you. I suppose that’s why he stuck so close and always made the effort to be in our lives even though you weren’t together.

That made it sound like I don’t know he loves me. Of course he loves me. He made the effort for me too.

But his face, his face told the whole story.

Donovan and Darrah took me out for dinner, but as good as the food was, I know you’d understand me barely remembering the food because of the quality of the company.

Donovan kept convincing me to tell more of what’s happened the last few weeks, nudging me along by telling danger filled stories from his travels over the years.

His book didn’t cover all of them.

Darrah fell quiet as the evening neared its end, and the ride back to their home was a comforting sort of silence, with rare whispers from the front seat as they communicated in that way they do.

I can’t imagine ever being that close to another human being.

I would feel less alone if you were here. Less likely to lie wide eyed in my bed while the stars come out and the moon marks the hours across the sky.

We would lie here, in the bed barely big enough for both of us, and talk about Donovan and Darrah and how good the food was, and how these friends of ours never pry, but still know everything about us.

Except Neil. No one knows about Neil, and I wish I could ask your advice about him. I know you would say I never gave him the chances he deserved. You always felt I was too hard on him.

Donovan walked me out to my trailer for the night, and I remembered the first time I met him, surrounded by adults and people who all seemed so important to me, and how he knelt to my level, his eyes crinkling in a wide smile.

The focused attention of that moment felt like the first time I’d ever been understood in my life.

With you gone, I think you probably would be grateful I still have people like this in my life. People who see me.

I’m grateful for them too, but they can’t take your place.

I miss you.

I love you.

Bo

I’m going to wait till tomorrow to stow the letter with the growing pile in my glove box, but it’s sealed with “Maureen Harris” written in my best handwriting across the front of the envelope.

Two things are battling in my mind for dominance. Neil, of course is always a topic I’m willing to dwell on. I can’t tell if I did the right thing, and there’s no one to ask. No one who knew him and knows me and could tell me if it was a mistake.

The other is something Donovan said, taking my arm before I could open the door to my camper.

He said he was surprised Dad let me travel all over the country alone like this. Something in his tone told me he knew before I said it that Dad doesn’t know where I am. I could feel my face flush with embarrassment and the barest hint of anger, but Donovan just looked at me, his steady gaze making it impossible to look away.

Then he asked if he could let my dad know that I’m safe.

I don’t know if I want my dad to know where I am. I feel like I’m in a cocoon where I don’t have to think about anything that’s happened or deal with the consequences of my actions.

I’m not sure I’m ready to have my dad’s name show up on my phone and hear his voice, and feel his disappointment.

But I still said yes. Of course I did. Dad’s disappointment will be bad coming through the phone, but Donovan and Darrah’s disappointment coming straight at me would be too much for the fragile composure I’ve constructed.

The stars are bright tonight, and I hope wherever you are, they're bright enough to pierce any darkness you might be going through. Goodnight all, and whatever else you do this week, be kind to yourself.