i miss you. especially when i see my newborn cousin who still doesn't have a name. he reminds me that you always said you felt old—i want to tell him that i feel i am old, too.

i’m nearly to adulthood and this winter is the hardest. i don’t know how i’ll make enough money to pay rent on my own next year. most days it’s tedious to get out of bed because i know something will remind me of you and i’ll have to pace semi-circles in the school bathroom to bring myself back around. i’m sure it won’t get better—this wanting to tell you happy holidays or waiting for a birthday text that will never deliver—but i’m trying to wait it out in hopes that it might dull over time. it’s movies like this, the ones with a thick concoction of warmth and grief and stillness all at once, that remind me of how i was fortunate enough to call you ‘mom’. life goes on, but i love you.