Only one more year is left.

One more year. I have your lifetime of memories stored away, and you have your own memories of the past years until now, and we share many of those same memories. If I could go back through the years, I know what I would do and say differently. It’s not that there is guilt or regret — though I have indeed made mistakes — but a longing for more time. The years do fly by.

So with this year that is left, the next twelve months, I am resolved to fill in the cracks: the words not spoken, the many words not spoken. The many things I have left to say to you.

Nothing else is as important—outside duties can wait. Other noises, other requests, will surely beckon for attention.

It is bittersweet. I am genuinely excited and happy for this phase. It is what diligent parents plan for: the launching of their children. I eagerly anticipate what the future holds. But I will miss you. And all the words that you have spoken, the words that you will be saying, the memories that will become a part of you that I will have no knowledge of. It is fine; it is the way it is meant to be, and it is good.

But until then, I hope to tell you all that I have not yet told you, all that I need to tell you, words that have yet been unspoken.


This post was written for the Five Minute Friday prompt, for the word “Tell”. The rules can be found here. Click here to read more or to add your own five minute writing piece.