I’m still at the coffee shop, unable to leave because I’m on the verge of tears. I just wrote a letter as my mum addressed to me. It’s the kind of letter I wish I’d get from her;
Let’s put the past behind is and start over. I’ve spoken to Ed and he’s agreed that you can stay with us again, on the proviso that it isn’t long term and on the proviso that you look for work (which I will help you with). We miss you, the cats Lily and Madge miss you too. I know you made a mistake and I trust you will stay put this time and not try to return to America. We hope that you’ll let us try your cooking again and we can take some more trips together, just mother and daughter. I realize now that you see me as a best friend as well as a mother.
Please come home Becca. I don’t think it’s a good idea that you stay in America any longer. You were right and I was wrong.
I would love to receive an email or a letter from her like that. Not only could I to hsck, but I could go back to a place where I’d be wanted and where I was considerably safer than here.
I’m still trying to stop myself from crying. It’s a combination of J not showing up and feeling like I’m trapped here.