what i don't say, to at least one and maybe some of you

You and your family (newest member included) are always home to me.

I'm not sure what's happening here and can't begin to predict the outcome. Usually, this terrifies me. For now, I'm content to watch with curiosity. I think it must be something about you.

Some days, I miss the way we were with a ridiculous ferocity, but then I remember what we traded it for and have a hard time coming up anything but even.

There are perfect Arizona evenings, when the sun has begun to set and the temperature has begun to cool, that I wish you were on my porch with me, drinking beer, laughing, (I'd even become a smoker again, for you) and telling me your crazy stories because seeing you a couple of times a year has never been enough.

I think you will make it through this unscathed.

I think you will not.

I sometimes regret not pushing you more, about that. But when I think about the various outcomes, I think the decision I made was a good one. That cancels regret, right?

I know what you're afraid of and honestly, if I were you, I'd be afraid, too. That's why I have so much patience and endless will around you. No one has ever, best as I can tell, told you this before, but: you deserve at least that much and probably considerably more. You are deserving. And forgiven.

You have never given me anything but unconditional support and the space in which to make my own decisions, on my own time. I hope I can always return the same to you.