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she was my secret-keeper, my living diary.
Tell me a secret, I hear Gram whisper to me, and my heart stretches in memory. I blink up at the sky, wondering where she is. Someone’s going to tell me one of yours.
“If anyone can just do things, it’s you, Shepard. You’ve been just doing things as long as I’ve known you.”
“I have a better idea. Like I said, you can take the map. But I’d like you to take me, too.”
That’s something I haven’t felt in so long—hope that things will shift into the shape I confidently sketched out when I was young.
Maybe it doesn’t have to be my best to still be enough.
This letter is getting read right now, come hell or high water.
