Child

Parents have been on the plane for two hours now.

Last night, when I called my parents and they didn't pick up, my voice cracked on the 'voice email.'

Last night, when they picked up my call, I found myself sounding casual and not like the stuff that's stuck between my throat and my lungs.

I asked about the Verizon account. What's going on? Have you given me full access to the account? What should I do now?

Father said I sounded tired (it was 23:30). I said yes. I said I can stay up a bit later, but I do want to sleep. Yes I want to sleep, but I'm not as tired as I sound. I'm unhappy that you two will be leaving me and afraid of going out to Sacramento to deal with this on my own.

We said goodbyes and I hurriedly wish them a safe trip, have fun, be careful. Father cracked jokes about being watchful like a toad. Did he notice? I said, "yeah, yeah, alright. Bye, and write back when you can."

Don't go, don't leave me behind, I don't want to be alone. Don't do something without me. Don't leave.

I sounded tired (weak). I said goodnight to Amy, crawed into bed, curled up on my side facing the wall like I always do, and my eyes got wet.

Then I took a shuddering breth, not being able to breath.
Then I wanted to shake and cry.
I took a slow breath.
Closed my eyes.
Missed.