A Piece of Me

I’m looking at his suitcase.

It’s packed.

I don’t know if we’re forgetting anything.

There’s a great chance we are.

“Money and documents,” I say,

“That’s all that matters.”

But I think to myself,

“What really matters is that you’re starting a new chapter of your life. On your own. And a piece of my heart goes with you.

My life will never be the same. Neither will yours. And I don’t even know if you feel that piece of me that goes on the journey with you. I hope you do. I want to think it’s one of the essentials you can’t leave behind.

But I don’t know that.

So whatever is left of my fractured heart aches. It’s my problem, though, not yours.

You go. Spread those wings and fly. Face whatever awaits you. You’ve got this, I know.

Live your life. Make the best of it. Have fun. Make mistakes. Learn from them.

And that piece of my heart will always be with you, wherever you go. A souvenir from home. A keepsake. A guiding light, reminding you that you’re loved. So, so loved.”

But I don’t say any of this. Instead, I just remind him to pack all the chargers.