invasato [h.s]

61

Elaina Basset

Hi Mom,

It's nearly been a quarter of a year since I last saw your face. I woke up today after dreaming of you.

We were at the kitchen table, I was admiring you while you drew your pictures with that worn down 2B pencil you refused to throw out. I can't recall exactly what you were sketching out on that coffee stained sketch pad, but does it really matter?

All that matters is that I miss you guys endlessly, and I hope you're all together and at peace. I see you all when I fall asleep...we're together again...and when I wake up, it pains me to know that I won't get to be surrounded by your nurturing love for a really long time.

I've been thinking a lot about mothers and daughters. There's such a beauty in those intense relationships. Women raising women. I wish I told you more often about how much you inspired me. And I realize as I grow day by day, that you admired me too. I was your creation. You molded me, but you didn't smother me. You created life, and you stood by and watched it blossom, gently providing your guidance as a mere suggestion. You wanted me to be who I was going to be.

One day, I will make you so proud. I swear, mom.

I told you about Harry in my last letter.

I described him to you. I told you how he gives me butterflies. I even told you about what we're involved in, and how I feel protected when he's with me.

I want you to know, mom, that if you're ever worried about me...Harry will be there with his arms around me, keeping me safe from the scary things of this world just like you and dad once did.

Healing from the trauma of the night I lost all of you was something I never thought I'd even begin to accomplish...and it's still so hard. But, Harry did something a few mornings ago that gave me a glimmer of hope, he made me think that maybe I can grow.

He asked me to shower with him. I said no at first, because I shower with colder water and he doesn't.

But, he told me that he wants me to try...and if I can't do it, at least I could say that I attempted it. He took my hand, and he brought me in. We started with cold water, which he tried to hide his discomfort for, then he slowly raised the temperature to lukewarm, slowly making it warmer while asking me if I'm alright with every turn of the knob.

I didn't make it much further than room temperature water beading on my skin before I started to get anxious, but he told me how proud he was of me for it.

He called me brave. He held me close. He dried me off. He dressed me.

If there was ever a time since the fire that I enjoyed feeling warm, it's because I'm hugging him. I've only admired the colour orange recently because of how he looks in the sunset.

He walks into a room and I ignite into a labyrinth of colour. He holds my hand and I want to grip onto him until my knuckles are white. He looks at me and I'm blissfully lost in a forest of evergreen. He kisses me and my skies become blue even if they're grey. If you could define colour as an individual, it would be Harry Styles.

Mom, I wish you could've met him.

I've never felt this way about anyone—

Harry walks back in to my bedroom from my ensuite bathroom, freshly showered. I set my pen down and close up my notebook, opening my nightstand drawer and placing it inside.

"Writing again?" Harry smiles as he begins to get dressed.

I lay with my head on the pillows, smiling back as I admire him. "Just rambling."