Sometimes I think about you,
and, well, you know,
I already miss you.
You haven’t left yet,
but I know you will—
you’d be foolish not to,
and you, my darling, are anything but foolish.

So surely you will leave me
here behind, in this city of anticipation,
waiting.
And in this place,
I will wait for you,
and I will wait for me.
I will wait for my opportunity,
while you go and live your own.
I am grateful to you,
and I will always miss you.

You have been more than anyone to me;
you have been my sister, my friend, my guide, and my confidant
through all these things,
and all these years—
I just can’t help but remember them all.

Someday, when we meet again,
we will be different people.
We will have changed, inevitably,
and yet, I have to believe,
that you will still be you,
and I will still be me.

But now I cry for you,
just a little,
because dear, I miss you already.