I soak up every minute of her visit.
Saying goodbye is just as hard the second time.
“Love, I'm really proud of you,” she says as we hug at the airport departure gate.
"You'll see me again on Easter weekend, okay? Text you tonight when I land.”
I fight the tears as best as I can.
Not just because it breaks me in half to watch her walk away.
But because I face an empty upstairs when I get home.
Now it’s just me and my shadow.
I long for company, even the parasocial kind.
Scrolling endlessly through stupid videos and reels makes me cry.
I hug my pillow as strangers vlog their family festivities.
I’ve always craved a home like that.
And I loved spending time with Beth today.
But part of me also wishes that I had one of those big cosy families.
The kind where everyone sits around the table eating and laughing.
Making fun of each other.
Belonging to each other.
Guess I’ll never be a dad because I’m not into women.
Guess I’ll never be the cool uncle because I’m an only child.
Probably a waste of time thinking about shit like that.
It only makes me sad.
I’m about to yeet my phone into the laundry pile when it buzzes in my hand.
New message, says the notification.
Him.
Merry Christmas to the one person I wish was here, it reads.
Would have messaged sooner, but I've been trying (and failing) not to miss you.
Porter has missed me?
That’s oddly comforting, even though I’m still mad at him for leaving.
Wish I was there too,I reply.
I punctuate my message with a heart emoji, then delete it quickly.
