[This is a fiction I co-authored with Louise Norlie. I will be publishing the story in serial installments, every Monday for the next little while. Stay tuned.]
Once I left for college I vowed not to call my parents. But I would still get the urge to dial their number. The desire to hear their voices was beyond my control. I told them that I was fine, doing well. I gave no details, though they tried to prod them out of me. They asked when I was coming home to see them. I told them I did not know. After a while they began to sound disappointed that I was not coming. Then they stopped asking me questions. They had given up on me.
I would not say that I regret hurting them, if that is what I did. But if they were the only people in the world to hurt, I would choose not to hurt them. Maybe they learned to miss me, the same way I missed them even when I was with them.
I wish that I could have made them miss me forever. But this did not work out the way I planned.