Mat Dugard.

Dear Dugard,

I keep thinking there will be more time. Later, after this, once things settle into something easier to understand.

But moments don’t really announce themselves like that.
They stretch quietly while you’re inside them, then collapse the second you try to hold on.

It’s strange how something can feel endless while it’s happening,
and impossibly brief the moment it’s gone.

I wonder how much of life is just that
misjudging the distance between staying and leaving,
thinking we have longer than we do,
until suddenly we don’t.

Dear Dugard,

I think sometimes we don’t want answers.
We just want to feel heard by something bigger than the room.

Even if it never calls back.