Then, I remembered something. “Your father told me that when I met him for the first time. But he also said that he deeply regretted it wasn’t a home,â€? I recalled.
“Well,â€? Casimir said with a smile, “I reckon you’ve changed that.â€? He reached out to touch my hand. His touch made me melt on the inside.
“I think it’s wonderful that you write letters to your mother in the journal. It’s like letting her know that you’ll never forget her, no matter what,â€? I commented, changing the subject.
“She was the only person who would actually read my letters,â€? Casimir replied. “I don’t think my father would want to,â€? he added.
“No, I think he would,â€? I said honestly. “Maybe you should try writing to him sometime,â€? I suggested, and I hoped that I wasn’t sounding too pushy.
Casimir nodded, but let the subject drop. “Anyways, you can read the rest of my entries, if you want. I don’t really mind if you see what I wrote,â€? he said.