Dear Ava

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

No matter the road you take, it doesn’t matter if it’s beautiful or ugly, hard or smooth, paved or pitted with ruts—it’s your road to take. What matters is how it ends.

But you can’t take a beautiful, soft flower and crush it under your cleats, not when she’s halfway to broken already.

Just, someday in the future, find me. Just find me and come up to me and tell me you still love me and want me and can’t live without me in your arms—”

“The sun’s coming up,” I whisper. “Dear Ava, today is the beginning of anything you want,” he says in my ear. I clutch his shoulders. “You. Always you.”