I felt you next to me tonight, Mama, as I made my silly walk to the 7-11 when I should've rightly been in bed. There you were, under this new moon, tall and red, deep dimpled and reaching for my shoulders. We walked at a stoic pace, full of heartache. Your smile said "But you're here, little girl. You're here." and I looked around at the empty streets, took in the view with you, and held your ghosted hand. Glad and nostalgic, I remembered how I wrote in my diary not so long ago: If I ever make it to New York City, I don't care if I don't accomplish another thing....
And then I hear your voice again and repeat after you "Here I am. Here I am."
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