30 Days Of Radical Honesty Journalling Challenge Day 5: Who Do I Miss, And What Would I Say To Them If I Could?
I miss you, Carolyn.
Like aching bones in cold weather, like silence in the place where laughter used to live, like a cup of coffee made for two that only ever ends up in one hand.
I miss you in the tiny, ordinary ways that build into something enormous. I miss the way our voices would tumble over each other when we were excited. I miss the sour candy hauls and the unapologetically long coffee runs. I miss our movie marathons and concert nights, curled up in each other’s joy, dissecting plot twists and lyrics as if the world depended on it. I miss how easy it all was. I miss how seen I felt.
We were just teenagers when we met, and somehow—some beautiful miracle of fate or caffeine—we understood one another instantly. You’re the only other person I’ve ever known who loves coffee the way I do, who devours sour candy like a religion, and who cries over fictional characters like they’re family. And you are family, Carolyn. You always were.
If I could see you right now, I would say I’m sorry. I would tell you I know I haven’t put in the effort I should have. I know life has gotten loud and fast and messy, and I’ve let the miles between Calgary and Toronto stretch too far between us. I would tell you that I think about you so often, it’s like your voice still lives in the back of my mind, ready to laugh at the next inside joke we haven’t made yet.
I’d even apologize for that Monopoly game—you know the one—where you got all four railroads and I lost my mind. You were graceful in the win and gracious in the aftermath. Thank you for loving me through my competitiveness and my quirks. Thank you for seeing me at my weirdest and sticking around anyway.
Mostly, I’d just want to talk to you. To pick up wherever we left off, like no time had passed. Because that’s how it always was with us—seamless. Easy. Like coming home.
I carry your friendship with me, always. Like a favourite sweater. Like a pocketed memory I reach for when the world feels a little too much. I hope you know how much I love you. I hope you feel it, even across this vast stretch of sky.
And if you’re reading this—know that the door is always open, the coffee’s always hot, and I will never stop saving the red Sour Patch Kids for you.
Peace, Love, and Inspiration,
~Britt Wolfe💚
