You should be arriving any day.I force myself to stop pretending that you still are. Dreaming for even a minute of your weight in my arms, your mouth rooting towards my breast, your long fingers curled tight, turns to nightmare.

When I was little my dad taught me how to control my dreams. I was just a girl and could turn chase on villans, create weapons out of air, change the story I was writing in my sleep, but I can not bring her back, not even in my dreams; like Anne Shirley and her red hair that could not be imagined away.