3 | noah

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"I miss you

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"I miss you."

The words are a whisper into the wind that I know nobody will ever hear, yet I say them anyway. It doesn't matter to me that there isn't a person around for miles; I know the woman the words are meant for will hear them all the same.

Staring down at the tombstone across from me, tears prick at my vision. I knew coming home wasn't going to be easy; that seeing her grave wasn't going to be easy. But I also knew that this was something I had to do, because I need this. I need to let go. I need to find peace. The longer I hold onto this pain that I'm feeling now, the longer it will control me. I just want to be set free.

I lower down onto the bench before me, grasping the bouquet of daises I hold in my hand tightly. Daises had been my mother's favorite flowers. After she passed, I began remembering a lot of little details about her. Random things that had slipped my mind until I realized that I didn't have much use for them anymore. It's almost ironic, remembering the the things that had been important to my mother now that she's gone.

However, my mother is alive and immortal in my memories. "Daises are my favorite," I can remember her saying to me, "because they're simple. And despite their simplicity, they still manage to be beautiful. That just goes to show that there is something beautiful in even the most ordinary of things, Noah. Never forget that there is beauty in everything."

My heart feels heavy with the memory. I know that if Mom were here, she'd be reminding me to stop agonizing over my loss and try to find the beauty in my life. She'd remind that even though she's gone, I still have something to live for.

With that thought, I find myself thinking of the things I'm still grateful to have, things I'd come close to losing thanks to my need for self-destruction. After Mom passed, I lost myself. I went down a dark path, led astray by pain, allowing it to consume me until it was all I had left. I lost a lot, and for a while I never thought I'd made make it back to this town or that I'd find myself again.

Yet here I am.

Deep down, I always knew I would come home. This town, my father's town—Magnolia Heights—this is the place that feels the most like home to me. Three years ago, I almost lost my relationship with my father. I packed up my things and left without so much as a goodbye. I didn't talk to my father for months before finally realizing that I needed him, more than ever after my mother passed. The first time I came back home was a short visit months ago, and the second my father embraced me I was a mess of tears and emotion. It felt good to cry, to finally release the pain living within me.

Then there's my stepmom, Caroline. The first time I met her I wasn't her biggest fan, to say the least. I didn't understand what my father saw in her, and I immediately noticed she was as far from my mother as a woman could get, which I took as a personal offense. However, as time went on, I grew to love Caroline. After Mom passed, my relationship with her crumbled once again. But now that I'm twenty-one and have slightly matured, I've realized that I have no reason to dislike Caroline. She'd always been kind to me, even when I'd been an ass to her. I've learned that we're more alike than I first thought. She was there for me after I lost my mom in the ways that matter most, and I'll be forever grateful to her for that. Staring at my mother's grave now, it's safe to say I have two mothers now: one an angel in heaven, the other here with me on earth.

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