I decided I'd do a Hummel one. Don't know why.
I sit alone on the leather chair that used to be Finn's dads and contemplate why I let them go so easily. I have spent sleepless nights praying that Finn's okay, and that Kurt has made it in New York. Part of me wishes that they were still here. That I could sit with those titchy teacups in my hand, drinking something sugary Kurt used to call tea. That Finn and I were playing ball outside. That I still had my two boys. But they're not boys anymore. And this isn't a game of pretend. They are men. And they need to get the hell out of this town unlike I did. Both of them have damn good lives ahead of them.
The other part of me accepts that. It knows that they need to be free and they are grown up. They aren't going to cry when they graze their knee or say why they're wearing a leotard. That will be their life, I hope. To be fair, that is one of the only things they left me. Hope.
I hear a gangling key outside the door but I don't get up. It will be Carol. I'll hear a call of 'Honey, I'm home!' and she'll come in, give me a kiss and leave me to unpack the groceries. It's how it always is. Every Monday. But I don't hear 'Honey'. I don't see her shining face or knowing smile. All I see is a hippo badge thing. My baby is home.