Some things were
never said.

I still take the long way home so I don't pass the coffee shop. Five years and I still do it without thinking. I hope he's good to you.

— the one who waited too long

I made your soup last week and finally got it right. I cried into the pot. I wanted to call you and tell you so badly.

We said we'd be each other's best men. I drove past your wedding venue last month. I wasn't invited, and I understand why. I'm still sorry.

I'm a father now. He has your laugh somehow, even though he never met you. I tell him about you every night.

— your son

You were right about everything. I was too proud to say it then. You were right, Jordan. I hope that means something now.

I kept your ring in my pocket on my interview. I got the job. I think you already knew I would.

I think about our drives a lot. The ones with no destination. I don't have a friend like that anymore. I didn't know how rare it was.

To the version of me at nineteen: it gets better, but not the way you think. You stop waiting for permission. Hold on.