I ate with a plate.

When I was younger, came dinner time, I scooped rice for my parents and my brother (sometimes I didn't). All three would get a rice bowl. For Daddy, I scooped him lots of rice - overflowing the brim. For Mama I filled her's with half - she didn't like much rice. For my brother, something normal. For myself, it was always a bit more than Mama and less than Daddy.  I ate with a plate. I wanted to be different and at the dinner table this was a way for me to be a bit creative with what I had. I was the only family member whose table setting hell, what am I talking about? Who grabbed a spoon from the draw in addition to my chopsticks. I always felt that a spoon did it's job for me in scooping the right amount of rice when I wanted.

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I cry when I am alone for too long. I think about you in many instances. I stop myself from sending you things and pictures as I have for the past year. Souplantation buy 1 get 1 free coupon. Ciclavia and me biking to the beach (the last time I biked was with you). So many things I want to share but can't. I hope to one day be able to again - soon. I've been trying to muster up the courage to write to you with pen and paper but I get emotional. I wish I was as brave as you in this way.