Reminders of Him

by Colleen Hoover

That could have been because the whole time I sat in my cell during my pregnancy, all there was to do was think about baby names. I chose the name Diem because I knew as soon as I was released, I was going to make my way back here and do everything in my power to find her. Here I am. Carpe Diem.

I take a drink of my coffee and close my eyes and cry because life can be so fucking cruel and hard, and I’ve wanted to quit living it so many times, but then moments like these remind me that happiness isn’t some permanent thing we’re all trying to achieve in life, it’s merely a thing that shows up every now and then, sometimes in tiny doses that are just substantial enough to keep us going.

Her face is a work of art. I wish there was a picture of it hanging on a wall in a museum somewhere so I could stand in front of it and stare at it for as long as I wanted.

So, you decide right now, right here. Are you gonna live in your sadness or are you gonna die in it?”

I spent five years typing letters to you, trying to recall all the memories I had with you in case Diem wants to know about you someday. I know your parents have more to share with her about you than I do, but I still feel like the part of you I knew is worth sharing.

“Regret keeps you stuck on pause. So does prison. When you get out of here, make sure you hit play so you don’t forget to move forward.”

He starts to lean in again, making my entire body feel unstable, but I somehow find the strength to shake my head. “Please don’t,” I whisper. “It hurts enough already.”

There was before you and there was during you. For some reason, I never thought there would be an after you. But there was, and I was in it. I’ll be in it forever.