I Could Live Here Forever

by Hanna Halperin

I didn’t need to be the prettiest or the most successful or even the most talented. But I desperately wanted—needed—to be loved.

“Were there a lot of people on the flight?” My dad liked asking questions like this: How was the traffic? Which route did you take? Was it crowded? I wasn’t sure if it was his math brain or his dad brain, but I didn’t mind his questions. There was something comforting about someone else caring about the logistics of my day. How I got from point A to B.

There are certain memories I’d never write down or tell anyone. I know what happens when you write things down. They change shape. Some of the feeling goes away. Things on the page are never as rich as they are in your head, as they were in real life. There are parts of my mother I could never bear to lose.

Losing her has never stopped. While her disappearance happened fast, overnight—it’s been a slow, endless transformation of our lives.