Nan,
I miss you in ways I can’t even put into words. I miss sitting on the sofa with you, an old movie playing in the background while we’d get lost in one of our long chats. Those were my favourite moments. Just us. A cup of tea each, you telling me about the war, about your childhood, about everything you’d lived through. I could’ve listened to you forever.
You used to call me “College Girl” all the time. Every time you said it, there was this little smile on your face, like you already knew I’d make something of myself. You never stopped believing in me. Your only wish was for me to do good in school — and the funny thing is, I only ever properly listened when it was you saying it. If anyone else told me, it wouldn’t land the same. But when you said it, it mattered.
I hope you can see me now. I hope you know I’m trying. I think about how proud you’d be — how you’d be telling everyone, “That’s my College Girl.” I can almost hear you saying it.
Sometimes when I make a cup of tea, I still feel like I should be bringing one over to you. And when I see a robin, I always stop. I like to think it’s you, keeping an eye on me, making sure your College Girl is doing what she promised.
I miss you so much it hurts. But I carry you with me — in every story you told, every bit of advice you gave, every time I push myself to do better.
I hope I’m making you proud, Nan. I’m doing it for you. 🤍
Rochelle fallows
14/02/2026