You know how sometimes you just… keep doing something, even when it makes no sense? Like, you know, logically, it makes no sense, but you just can’t stop? That’s me. Every single day, every day, I send texts to my mom’s old number. She’s gone. She’s been gone for over a year. And I still pay for the phone plan. It’s not even an expensive plan, just enough to keep the number active. And I text it. Every morning, I send a little update, like “Hey Mom, just got my coffee, wish me luck on this stats problem.” Or in the evening, “Hard day, but I finally finished that paper.” Sometimes I just send pictures of my cat. It’s like, a running commentary of my life, every single day, to a number I know will never answer back. It’s dumb, I know it’s dumb. You wonder why you do these things, don't you? Humans are just so weird about holding on. She was a stay-at-home parent, always there, always… just *there*. And now she's not. And I’m in grad school, doing all these things she would have been so proud of, things I always wanted to do but sometimes felt guilty for wanting because it meant leaving her, leaving the house. And it’s like… I can’t tell her now. She can’t tell me how proud she is, or ask about my day, or tell me to remember to eat something other than ramen. So I tell *her*. Or, I tell the number. It’s like… a habit, but also… a lifeline? Not for her, obviously. For me. And I know, I KNOW, she’s not reading them. The phone is probably sitting in some drawer somewhere, dead, or maybe it got recycled, who knows. But it’s like, if I stop, then it’s really over. And I can’t… I can’t stop. Not yet. It’s just this thing I do, this weird, sad little ritual, every single day. And sometimes, you just keep doing it, even when you know it's a bit crazy, because the alternative feels even crazier.