{dear Seattle}

I've been keeping this in for the past week, but it's time to let go.

You were supposed to meet Em this weekend. We were supposed to go to Clearwater. Rent those bikes that you told me E loved so much. You would have been here a little over a week so far. We would have gone to Lonestar (where I would refuse to eat unless you ordered more than a baked potatos) and Don Pablos (where you would insist that I not only order the queso, but also take home the leftovers) at least 2 times each. I would know the infamous Chad by now & he would know the girl with the 'cute southern accent' that I swear I don't have.

None of that has happened.

Every time my phone rings, I hesitate to answer. The longer I put off looking at it, the longer I can hold out hope that it's you. Every day, I turn down my street & secretly hope that I'll see your truck in the driveway, waiting there for me. Every day I check my email, hoping to see one from you. Every time I muster up the courage to call you, my heart drops when it rings. I don't want it to ring. I don't know what I want it to do, but I don't want it to ring. It's just one more failed try.

We last talked a week ago Thursday. I called you as I left my doctor appointment. You answered the phone with "How's my favorite girl?" and you were overly concerned about the tests the doctor ordered. You were hooking up the trailer with your equipment on it to the truck and leaving Kansas City, expecting to be here about 2am Friday morning. You were trying to convince me to go to dinner with you Friday AND Saturday night. I was trying to convince you to wait til Saturday, that you'd be exhusted Friday night...and after all, I wasn't going anywhere, we had plenty of time. We talked until I got to work & you told me to call you when I got off. You warned me that I was going be stuck talking to you all night, to keep you awake during the last leg of your cross country drive. I told you that I didn't see that as a punishment at all.

That was last time I heard from you.

I don't what happened. I don't know where you are. I don't know if you're OK. This isn't you. You aren't the type to just stop calling. And that worries me. I've called, I've emailed. Hell, I've even called the hotel you were planning on staying at til you found a place to rent. You aren't checked in and that worries me even more.

It's been a week. Just 7 days. 7 days that have drug on like a lifetime. And as much as I hate to say this...I'm giving up. I just can't do it anymore. I can't spend each day hoping to hear your voice. There's not a day that goes by that someone dosen't call me & ask if I've heard from you yet. When I say no, the answer is always the same, that's so strange. Even James, the one that you said you needed to hurry up & move back before I got serious with him, even he's concerned. Granted, I think his concren for you is really his concern that I'm ok, just him trying to mask it. In case you're wondering.... No, I'm not OK.

I hate not knowing. I hate questioning every choice I've ever made when it comes to you. What if I hadn't pushed you away last time? What if I had been able to see through Jimmy, to look past his lies & see that you were standing there ready to catch me? What if I had taken up one of your many offers to visit you for the weekend in Seattle? You knew I needed to get away and you were willing to make it happen for me. Just like that. All I had to do was say, book me a ticket. Would it be different now? Would you have never left to begin with?

Deep down, I have faith that I'll hear from you. Because I know this isn't like you. Because I know that if you're out there, this isn't the end. But right now, this is too heavy on me. And I give up.