Dear Mom,

Are you typing something to me somewhere now to be delivered by air mail, by a bird flying over the sea, or perhaps, I will open my computer and find a message from you? I saw your scarf the other day and brought it to my face. I inhaled your scent. I tied it around the doorknob to the spare room. Then I pulled it off and tied it around my neck to wear to work. I wore the silver and turquoise butterfly yesterday. We bought it in Old Town, remember? Did you help me pick it out to wear?

 "Tonight, go home and work on your spare room to get it like you desire. Type this up, Jen. Stop holding back. Stop waiting. Stop overthinking. You can watch the debates at home or if you feel up to it, go meet up with friends and Chris. No pressure, babydoll. Walk through the passageway. A little at a time. Each piece counts because it feels good and right, butterfly.”