Letters I Could Never Send - 1

Dearest L:
You once bought me a gift for 'putting up with your son.' I've never concluded if it was hopeful or despairing, but I've never forgotten the air of camraderie. Like all the advice you gave me, and the example you set, and the child of your heart, I think upon this gift every day. I cannot thank you enough for all of these, and cannot help but feel that I've failed them all.

I am sorry that I can't spend more time with you anymore, and I'm sorry that I can't extend the same generous nature to everyone I meet, and I'm sorry that I angered your son so by caring too much. You asked me to watch out for him, and I tried my hardest; trying my hardest just wasn't going to ever be the right thing. These are boys who idolize apathy.

Your gift I treasure every day. Not meaning that I dust and polish and cherish it, but rather that like you, it was not only beautiful but practical. Thank you for that.

I miss your friendship. I miss all the moms, as a unit and singly. Seeming to have an air for pleasing mothers, I am despondant that I cannot come and visit you in Shangri La any more.

I'm in the mood for missing, and I am missing you.

Best,
Me.