I had a dream, maybe it was another nightmare, they all look the same lately.

There I was sitting at the kitchen table staring at a piece of mail, and I swear I stared in disbelief for what felt like an eternity. Your name written on something new, something more than a memory that we simply stored away. Your name, was it your name? or was it another name that just happened to be the same but no other resemblance to you? Your name before me on a piece of paper, a document, and it was open. So I opened it, it was addressed to you if it was really your name, and it was a credit card bill. A list of charges of things I could see you buying. She told me to put it down, it’s just junk, an old statement they just finally sent, I’ll call tomorrow and make sure all her old cards are cancelled and nobody got ahold of them, she said.

I couldn’t listen to her, that didn’t make sense. It’s been almost twelve ******* years, the cards would be expired and unless someone with the same name had their mail sent here, than how could this make sense? It didn’t, but she called and they said it was active, and happened to be recently renewed. Just what I had this terrible feeling for in my stomach, it was you. It made no sense, a terrible ****** up mistake that you could explain 100 times, I’d never understand and I’d never even care to try. You were still here, not dead, not gone, there you were somewhere letting us know you could be found. You never really left that day, you just had some ****** up story I could forgive for thinking you were dead for twelve years. I thought of the things I’d say the moment I finally got to see you again, I got to feel the warmth of my mom again, and how what I had become was so cold and numb, you’d fix that all. There I was, getting ready to find you when the phone rang, it was the credit card company, and I guess things are stored according to last name, and there was someone with the exact same name as you and a few missed spelled addresses, your mailbox didn’t exist but the mail ended up at Nan’s kitchen table. The beeping was driving me crazy but something in me gasped for air while I opened my eyes to the sound of my alarm reminding me to wake up for work. Reminding me to wake the **** up. Finding you again? It was all a dream. That’s not really a dream is it. It’s more of a ******* nightmare. It’s actually the trauma from losing you but needing you all at the same time trying to let me know, you’re there in my dreams to help me but in my nightmares to remind me you aren’t reachable. They just became one over the years. It’s the forgiveness in my heart to forgive anything as long as it means to have you back.