Kaelyn Moore

I called out to her, but I don't think she listens to me, end quote.

So I did.

I went home, and I went to my old bedroom, and I could smell her.

My room smelled like incense, despite none having ever been lit in there.

I sat down in the middle of the room and just talked for a while.

I told her I wasn't sure if she could hear me, that everything was okay, and that I had moved into a nice apartment near my new job.

I told her about my new job.

I told her about how old I was, just in case she never knew.

I thanked her for being my friend, and I told her I was sorry about how our friendship ended, that I never forgot her, and I found some comfort knowing that she was still there.

I told her that my parents were moving soon, so I probably wouldn't be back to this house ever.

I told her I didn't want her to be lonely, that I hoped if she wants to move on, she can now.

Then I stood up, turned off my light, said goodbye, and shut the door.

I headed down the hall to tell my dad the deed was done, when all of a sudden, my bedroom door clicked back open, and I heard a very clear, See ya.

I turned around to look, decided to leave the door open, and I waved.

I'm 36 now, and I had my daughter last year.

One night, early in the newborn trenches, I was operating on almost no sleep and just rocking the baby quietly in the dark when I got the urge to talk to her.

I introduced my baby out loud and I talked about my birth experience.

I told her how old I was now and how I was told I couldn't have children, but here we are.

And I heard her laugh, sigh, and whisper like she was trying not to wake the baby.

Beautiful.