Sometimes I think about how much I miss you, and it hurts. I hurt. I wonder, do you ever hurt?

I miss you so much. Everyday when I walk down the street to my school I think, just one more year. Just one more year and then I can be with you. I just have to graduate High School.

When it rains, I think about what the weather in India must be like. Is it raining, too? Or is the sun out, and the heat so hot you can hardly stand it? I wish I wasn't conceived in such a distasteful place. I want to live in India with you, in that small town with the really strange name that I could never pronounce. I don't want to be just American girl imprisoned by this rain.

I get your letters often. You tell me about your brothers and sister, and father. Your father's working everyday from six till ten, trying to make end's meet. Your siblings fight a lot, but you're still so close. Your sister has anemia, and she's so weak she uses the crunches you made for her out of sticks. She needs more protein and iron, or her body will start to shut down. It's hard being poor, and having to stick to a religious diet. How can I help?

You're so far away, I can feel the distance between us everyday. And everyday, I can feel that distance shrinking. Only four more months until graduation. My heart is pounding. Literally. I just got back from a run. I know you run, even though you shouldn't-- you should save your energy, and help your father. But ever since your mother died last year, it's been hard. I know running is the only thing that keeps you grounded, helps you get through the pain.

I saw your letter in the mail this morning, and I nearly punched a wall. I was so excited. And when I opened it, your words made my year. You said you were coming to America. To my city-- to Seattle. You were accepted into a learning program, because of your amazing grades and honors, and fascination in science. I could feel you then, right beside me, and I knew that it wouldn't be long until there were no miles to separate us.