I'm Gone Away
I Write These Letters to You...
Dear Amy,
I'm not sure how start this. I ain't even sure you'll get this. But I hope you do. We miss you. Mama and me, I mean. Home just ain't the same - and it hasn't been for four years. Why exactly did you go? Honestly? Was it worth it? Was whatever you were chasing worth leaving us behind? Is there ever a time, late at night, when you can't sleep because your heart is aching, you're lonely and homesick?
Life here is the same. Maybe that's what drove you away. You really broke our hearts, Amy. You really did. Mama's still clinging to the hope. It's been FOUR YEARS, Amy! Let her let go. It isn't fair for her to keep holding onto the almost-impossible dream of her daughter coming home like the freaking prodigal son. I highly doubt it will. After all, four years is a long absence. It's seeming more like a permanent departure, and if that's what it is, then please, for God's sake, TELL MAMA. Give us a sigh. Don't keep us waiting. Or rather, don't keep Mama waiting. She doesn't deserve this. AND YOU KNOW IT!! You knew this four years ago, the night you disappeared into the dark and didn't look back. You knew how this would hurt Mama. We'd just lost Daddy a year and eight months before you left. Didn't you realise how it would tear Mama up inside? Didn't you realise the devastation she'd feel? Did you even think about the fact that she'd hold onto the dying hope that you'd come back when the big bad city got too big and bad and frightening for you? That's what hurts the most, Amy. She STILL sits at the kitchen table, staring out the window. Waiting for your car to pull into the driveway. She STILL hesitates when pulling dinnerware out of the cupboards, almost pulls down an extra plate and cup for you. Then, with a deadened look in her eyes that she tries her hardest to hide, she slowly draws her hand back and forces a smile. YOU caused this, Amy. YOU caused her pain. I stopped hurting only a couple months after you left. Now, all I fell is anger. You left us, Amy. You left ME. You left me to deal with Mama's questioning and the town's gossip. You made it to where, even four years later, they STILL give me those damn pitying looks I've come to hate since Daddy died. They still whisper about me and how poor Mrs. Cooper has to deal with two losses, behind our backs. They don't even speak to our faces about you. They never say your name. It's like they're terrified that mentioning your name will bring back the pain and send Mama into a fit of crazy. They even took down the awards you'd won and all your pictures off the walls at school, which was kind of stupid. It's not like Mama ever steps foot NEAR the school. She doesn't do a lot of things she used to anymore. She can't get rid of the hurt as it is. Why bring more painful memories back without reason to?
Did you know that I was going to be on the student council and Prom committee this year? But I decided not to. I didn't want to win Presidency of the class through sympathy. I'm trying to figure out how to bring up to Mama the idea of moving. I don't want to be in this town anymore. It's getting too painful to try to ignore people's looks. Maybe "painful" is the wrong word to use. Annoying, time-consuming, stuff like that. I hate it. I don't need this in my last year of high school. I want something better.
I'd better go before this gets too long. Sorry to waste your time. I guess all I can do is wait for your reply - if I get one. I hope it's soon, because I'm sure Mama would enjoy hearing from you again. Especially since she's sick.
Sincerely,
Allison Cooper.
I'm not sure how start this. I ain't even sure you'll get this. But I hope you do. We miss you. Mama and me, I mean. Home just ain't the same - and it hasn't been for four years. Why exactly did you go? Honestly? Was it worth it? Was whatever you were chasing worth leaving us behind? Is there ever a time, late at night, when you can't sleep because your heart is aching, you're lonely and homesick?
Life here is the same. Maybe that's what drove you away. You really broke our hearts, Amy. You really did. Mama's still clinging to the hope. It's been FOUR YEARS, Amy! Let her let go. It isn't fair for her to keep holding onto the almost-impossible dream of her daughter coming home like the freaking prodigal son. I highly doubt it will. After all, four years is a long absence. It's seeming more like a permanent departure, and if that's what it is, then please, for God's sake, TELL MAMA. Give us a sigh. Don't keep us waiting. Or rather, don't keep Mama waiting. She doesn't deserve this. AND YOU KNOW IT!! You knew this four years ago, the night you disappeared into the dark and didn't look back. You knew how this would hurt Mama. We'd just lost Daddy a year and eight months before you left. Didn't you realise how it would tear Mama up inside? Didn't you realise the devastation she'd feel? Did you even think about the fact that she'd hold onto the dying hope that you'd come back when the big bad city got too big and bad and frightening for you? That's what hurts the most, Amy. She STILL sits at the kitchen table, staring out the window. Waiting for your car to pull into the driveway. She STILL hesitates when pulling dinnerware out of the cupboards, almost pulls down an extra plate and cup for you. Then, with a deadened look in her eyes that she tries her hardest to hide, she slowly draws her hand back and forces a smile. YOU caused this, Amy. YOU caused her pain. I stopped hurting only a couple months after you left. Now, all I fell is anger. You left us, Amy. You left ME. You left me to deal with Mama's questioning and the town's gossip. You made it to where, even four years later, they STILL give me those damn pitying looks I've come to hate since Daddy died. They still whisper about me and how poor Mrs. Cooper has to deal with two losses, behind our backs. They don't even speak to our faces about you. They never say your name. It's like they're terrified that mentioning your name will bring back the pain and send Mama into a fit of crazy. They even took down the awards you'd won and all your pictures off the walls at school, which was kind of stupid. It's not like Mama ever steps foot NEAR the school. She doesn't do a lot of things she used to anymore. She can't get rid of the hurt as it is. Why bring more painful memories back without reason to?
Did you know that I was going to be on the student council and Prom committee this year? But I decided not to. I didn't want to win Presidency of the class through sympathy. I'm trying to figure out how to bring up to Mama the idea of moving. I don't want to be in this town anymore. It's getting too painful to try to ignore people's looks. Maybe "painful" is the wrong word to use. Annoying, time-consuming, stuff like that. I hate it. I don't need this in my last year of high school. I want something better.
I'd better go before this gets too long. Sorry to waste your time. I guess all I can do is wait for your reply - if I get one. I hope it's soon, because I'm sure Mama would enjoy hearing from you again. Especially since she's sick.
Sincerely,
Allison Cooper.