My Imaginary Person

He asked if I wanted to go further and I froze the question.

When I got home, I knew exactly what to do though. I climb to the top of my cupboard and searched for that box of unposted letters I tucked in the back shelf for days like these. And I begin writing another letter to my Atticus. It started just like all the others:

You see, as a child, I promised to wait for my future husband, and that sounds like a pretty easy gig at 12 before puberty and reality hit the scene. I had always written letters to him even not knowing who or what his name is up till this day. I’d write when I felt lonely, or when waiting was especially difficult, or even when I felt like I’ve been hurt or accidentally hurt someone. I’d write to him and tell him about my frustration, or my broken hearts or the ways I want him to be real to comfort me.

I love writing to him, it somehow lightened the burden. It made the waiting seem more doable and the hope I had been holding out for more tangible. Because I need a little fantasy, true story to remind my heart to believe that love is still possible. But I'm sorry I can't go further, especially when I still got a story I yet to close and apologize.