I actually rehashed a line from another story to make it fit, I couldn't think of any other way to end this story. I might play around with it in the future, it is after all always open to revision like any other work.
I wrote this since I'm feeling a little bit homesick again. Of course in this digital age there's no point on relying to snail mail, but I remember growing up reading letters from my relatives that had lived far away from us at the time. They were pages upon pages of their life abroad, how they missed the home cooking of our grandmother, how they wished they could have been home for the holidays.
I figured what would it be like if I had to send it snail mail? How would it feel to be in their place?
*picture is originally from http://weheartit.com/youknowthatgirl
Today I’ve made little paper boats.
I’ve inked my dreams, accomplishments, and my life abroad. Poured my love for family too far away to feel it. Took my laughter and smiles to be given for my friends. Cried my sadness and pain into each fold, to tell them how I wish the distance was never there.
I took them to the pier with instructions: south-east, the pearl of the orient sea. Bring home my heart to them.
I watched them sink after just a few minutes.
No emotion came to face.
Going back to a house that’s not my home.