When I left home, my little sister wrote me a letter on her shinny aluminous green writing paper usually reserved for special occasions or times like this, and sent it.
I had only moved out one week before.
Lindsey's careful handwriting told me I had missed out because she had been allowed a chippy for tea that night, but I was lucky, since last night it was Mum’s mince and tatties!
I remember being chuffed to receive my first letter through the letter box of my first flat, but that's not all. Whilst holding in my hands, those slightly tattered sheets of paper inscribed with my sisters words, I felt something that can only be described as clenched from within. Suspended between the lines lay an absence of the other and gripped by a pang of sadness, I turned the volume up and made more toast.