Hi, mon.
I just realized that this is going to be my first Christmas without you.
That sucks.
I still got you something. Two somethings actually.
I will spare you the details of how because honestly
I am sick of talking about it but it's happening.
I'm pregnant.
And I have no idea what I'm doing.
And all I want to do is just sit on our kitchen counter while you burn our dinner,
and ask you a million questions.
God I miss you.
I used to picture us having this converstion.
It looked different obviously.
I was a human carrying my own children, and you...were...
You were alive. I know they're not mine. But they're still my responsibility.
You know, and I want to... I have to do this right.