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Dear Harmony,

   The entire train ride, I've been thinking about the last time I saw you. That summer night, you and I all alone near the tire swing in the tree just outside your bedroom window. Your family was away on vacation. You stayed behind because of work and because of me.

   We were dancing to Frank Sinatra. New York, New York. You kept stepping on my feet. Laughing. You were so happy.

   It hurts that I can't hold you between my arms like that, or feel your clumsy feet mercilessly squashing my toes. It hurts that I can't hear you laugh or see you smile.

   I hope that when I find you, you'll come dancing joyously into my embrace. And I will not let anything take you away. Not again. Not ever.