Homesick
Dear Bennet,
It's been a while. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you wait this long. I suppose time got away from me. One moment, I had just arrived in Danzia, fresh through the portals and the next, I'm three months into a new job with no time and a sudden yearning to be back home. Don't get me wrong, I love Danzia, moving here was the best decision I could have made. I just wish I could take a moment to relax and maybe take a picnic up to Grandma's Oak like we did when we were little.
There aren't any oak trees here, or any trees at all for that matter; all our oxygen is from The Garden. You should come and see it sometime; it's absolutely breathtaking and would satisfy even your obsession with atmospheric plants. My favourite part is the area above the market square. The vapours from the food stalls have genetically altered that part of The Garden so the plants are astonishingly vibrant. When they bloom, they take on the hues of the food in the market. Just above the sweet stall, there is a particularly impressive flower that looks like candy floss and smells just like it too.
I really hope you will visit me. Despite all the wonders this city has to offer, I miss the simplicity of home. Everything here is so busy, so alive, that sometimes it is overwhelming. There is nothing here that reminds me of our village and I am scared that my memory can no longer do it justice. I've started to forget things: the face of the statue in the village square, the taste of the pastries from the bakery on the top of the hill, and what it feels like to sit in the branches of Grandma's Oak and watch the sun sink slowly below the horizon. I want you to come here and bring your memories with you, to share with me what I can no longer experience for myself.
If you do come, I will take you to see the market flowers and treat you to the best ice cream you have ever tasted. Afterwards, we can go to the wishing well near my apartment and give the goldfish slices of mango in the hopes that they grant our wishes. I'll take you to the walkways above the city and we can watch the heart of it beat beneath the translucent cobbles. You'll enjoy it, I promise. You can take photographs too, but not of me- what's the point if they will only get confiscated?
Did they let you keep anything at all to remember me by? They let Rayna keep one of her brother's paintings, but she was the daughter of the village doctor. If you were allowed to keep anything, I hope you chose that photo of me making a chocolate cake for Mum's birthday. I know you loved it and I know she did too, despite the fact that the cake itself was a complete disaster.
I hope Mum is okay. I know she would have been hurt the most by my exile. Please stay strong for her Bennet. Please look after her. I'm sorry I had to leave.
I hope to see you soon.
Lots of love,
Edward
