To K.

I miss you.

You left for SF last summer, but you promised to be back by June.

It's October now, and you're still not here.

Not that I'm surprised. As immigrants, your family has to stay in the U.S. for at least three months every year.

But this is the longest you've ever been gone.

I know why you're still there - your mom's back surgery, your legal battles with your aunt, etc. - but I can't help but miss you when I listen to the Alicia Keys remixes you spinned for me, when I look at the stack of books you left for me to read, when I witness something hilarious and my first thought is, wait till I tell K. about this!, then I remember you're not here yet, and darn it to hell, I end up missing you all the more.

Since you've been gone I've had many "I'm so grateful to the universe I could cry" moments. Since we last saw each other, I wonder how many of those you've had yourself, if you're enjoying them, and how much you'll have changed by the time you get back.

And I still can't believe that just before you were about to leave, you were called in for jury duty!

Come home, biatch. No one insults me like you do.