dear dad

hey dad, it’s been a while. thirteen years and six months if we’re being precise. i write your title a lot nowadays ‘dad’ but you dont know me i’ll introduce my name is emry grace henderson im fourteen, with blonde hair and green eyes (which everyone seems keen on commenting about- i think the gold flecks are from your amber ones) i love music love the sound of strings vibrating on a flat surface, haunting melodies (or in our case, Irish folk songs- though i suppose you wouldnt know that?) I’ve missed you- though i suppose thats also a bit of an understatement im not sure i understand you understand why no matter how hard my grandmother explains on a sunday evening although ive heard we are pathologically similar (i wouldnt know) how are you? what are you like? ive a vague outline of you faded and blurry, yet as vibrant as autumn in virginia (i never did tell you about that trip did i?) it’s good to get this out- im not sure i could speak it aloud- ive a way of fumbling the words until their unintelligible, only understood by the leaves that shake in the wind, by the hummingbirds in the skies, by the black bose i wear as a grounding element somedays i wonder if this was ever meant for me do you feel like this? (from what ive heard you collapsed under the weight- i hope not to) they say we’re similar though bitterness kept me from acknowledging this truth i hope you’ll meet me someday when the voices are less present- and you are free from the weight of this world- because i’d love to finally meet you.