NORI

TO: NORI

I always thought I liked a quiet house. I was wrong. Without you, it isn't peaceful. It's empty. Yesterday I opened the refrigerator and reached for the cheese because you always got a piece. I stood there holding it before I remembered nobody was waiting behind me. I ate it myself and cried. Over cheese. Everyone says fifteen years was a gift, and I know it was. But fifteen years means you were part of everything--morning, dinner, walks, bedtime, coming home. Now I come home and nobody is at the door. I hope your legs don't hurt anymore. I hope there are warm blankets and all the cheese you want. Goodnight, Nori. I still say it every night.

FROM: Nori’s parents