To Trish. Happy Birthday. Love you.

(Sorry about the thong thing)

Sorry about lack of length, but have immense creative writing portfolio to deal with -.-


"The sunflowers I planted when you were last here are just high enough so I can see them over the windowsill."

Delia paused, her pen hovering over the stationary as she shot a bright smile at the brown faces of the flowers peering through the window.

"It's quite bright outside considering how early it is. 7.30am! Ash is still asleep. He never quite inherited my love of early mornings, now did he?

You should see him. He looks more and more like a Ketchum every day. I can barely see any of my family in him -–his eyes I suppose, but precious little else. He's bound to be a looker then!" Delia giggled to herself and glanced into the corner of the ceiling as she pondered her next sentence.

"He does understand why you couldn't be here for his birthday last month. He said to me, 'don't worry mama, six isn't an important number'. And all I could do was wonder how he'll take seven, eight, nine, ten, eighteen."

She pinched her eyes closed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get like that my love. I just need to see you is all. Ash got his own television from us, just so you know. I was a little apprehensive, now he'll never get any sleep! Those late night Pokémon battles on Channel Seven!

He's going to be a great Trainer. You know how you can just sense it in some? I may be biased, I am his mother but! I sensed it in you, after all.

So anyway, the television is up and running in his bedroom. I just can't say no. He's got me in the palm of his hand, there's no denying he's your child! Sometimes he smiles and it's almost like you're home again. I find it hard to breathe sometimes.

I don't know what I'd do without him. Same as you.

I walked past his room the other night. He was praying. I didn't even know he knew how.

'Lord, help mama,' he murmured, with his head bowed. He didn't see me standing at the door. 'And tell daddy we miss him'.

He really misses you. Same as me."

Delia stopped to wait for her hand to steady. She took a deep breath and began again.

"I'd better sign off. There's cleaning. Ash's breakfast. The usual."

She groped along the table to grasp an envelope.

"Love always, my darling."

She signed it with an exaggerated flourish and sighed. She was beginning to think that writing these letters took more out of her than was healthy.

The piece of paper was meticulously folded in half and slid into the matching envelope. There was no point writing an address on the front.

Delia rubbed her hands together briskly and rose from the kitchen table, stacking her stationary back into the box as she did so. She picked the pastel envelope up cautiously, taking care not to bend the edges. She superstitiously sealed it with a kiss, breathing in the paper scent as she did so, the same as the other countless letters in the past eight months.

Porridge for breakfast? Delia thought as she posted her letter into the kitchen bin.