I woke up feeling something heavy pressing on my chest. I was on that floating moment between heavy dreaming and reluctant waking state at about dawn that I almost ignored it, when I noticed that the heavy feeling wasn’t an internal force, but that of a head resting on my chest.

I barely opened my eyes, but I placed my hand on top of the head, giving me a feel of a usual dry hair and small, soft but worn ear and cheek. Tha familiarity settled me, after all, there are only two women in the family, and that includes me.

Her right cheek was flat on my chest and barely moved, while almost after distinguishing her features I started to hear my heart beat louder, almost to a point of deafening me. I suppose it was hearts’ way of connecting; I suppose her heart wanted to say it misses me.

I know it can be hard for her. She’s taken to thinking she brought me up to be too independent that I barely tell her where I am at times, when obviously I can just be sometimes rude when I just honestly forget. It’s one bad habit I’m having a hard time losing, and I’m honestly not proud of it. But in these moments she chooses to forget and connect instead, my heart flows into a non-stop river of guilt and I can’t do anything but let myself get carried by my deafening heartbeats. I pulled her closer. I passed out in that state.

Later on, she cuddled to me after lunch while watching Charlotte’s Web. I couldn’t bear to ask if it were really her that morning. I’d rather think it happened rather than I imagined it. But maybe it really did. After all, she missed me. Then again, I missed her more.