Gone. Father had gone, leaving us behind, choosing adventure and the chance to find something rare and valuable over staying at home with his family. Tourzoki, the man that claims to be my father (I’m not sure considering the fact that I never see him), wasn’t coming home anytime soon, and Amane was starting to ask if he would be home for Holiday. Mother disliked these questions, trying to keep hope that the man who was her neglectful husband had not forgotten her and would come home. It would help if the, and I use this term lightly, man would send letters home, which by the way I’m sure he can.

Amane, failing to get an answer from Mother, came to me instead and asked, true questioning of our father for the first time in her gleaming, innocent eyes,” Will you tell me if Daddy will be home for Holiday, Ryo?”

I looked at her and, feeling compelled to tell her the truth, replied,” I don’t think he’ll come home anytime soon, Amane. I’m sorry.”

"Couldn't he at least write home and say that he wished that he could be with us, Ryo?" Amane asked, hiding how much my words hurt her.

"Well, Amane, sometimes it's difficult to write home from far away," I explained, hoping to not have to tell her what I personally believed was the real reason that Father never wrote. I suspected that it was that Father simply didn’t care anymore.

"Well, will you always write to me, Ryo? Even if I'm so far away that it will never reach me?" Amane asked me in a hopeful, excited tone.

"Of course, Amane! I'll always write for you!" I said in a soothing, promising voice, wrapping my arms around my sister in a comforting manner.

Two weeks later, Amane was farther away than any letter could reach, along with Mother. Grieving, I remembered my promise. Writing down my emotions, I decided to turn this into a diary of sorts. From then on, I wrote letters to my sister every day, and she never read a single one. And that was OK.