.317 | to Mike, from Nikki

I think of you every time there’s a thunderstorm at night. I haven’t seen or talked to you in almost a decade, but you pop into my dreams with a frequency and a comfort that’s as though you just got back from the store to get milk.

For 17 years, I’ve wanted to say this but the words have been stuck in my throat. Behind my pride, my fear and my white-knuckled grip on control. Behind an armor that was in place bc I thought I needed it to survive. But I know now that I’m ok. I don’t need the armor anymore.

So here it goes…

Thank you.

Thank you for being there on the most vulnerable night of my life.

Thank you…

...for sitting next to me and letting me lean on you while I cried tears I didn’t know I had to cry.
...for sturdying me when I was falling over.
...for understanding the complexity of the grief, relief, freedom and pain that hit me over and over again like a wave that could drown me in an instant.
...for understanding without me needing to say a word.

My tough exterior crumbled that day and you made it ok. Sitting on that curb in the parking lot in the dark, you made me feel safe in the midst of the trauma swirling around me.

I’m almost positive you have no idea how much it meant to me because I’ve done everything I could since that night not to show it.

So I’ll say it again because it's got to be hard to believe or compute…

Thank you.
I don’t know where I’d be today without you being there.

Thank you.
For showing up in my dreams bc with every waking moment, I’ve resisted any opportunity for you to show up in real life.

I’m grateful for the thunderstorms.