Dear Sweetie,
Chilliwack and windy here today; the wind blew hard all night and is still going. It’s 81 where you are supposed to be, though it started at 58 this morning. But I knew you wouldn’t have given in and gone with pants instead of shorts. Not yet. Last night I was looking at your pictures while I played my guitar, and I was so glad you were such an insistent wearer of shorts; I have lots of pictures of your fantastic legs. Your sister never did scan those ones of you for me that she said she would; there was a great one of you and Princess Smiley that I really would’ve loved. The two of you were adorable; not that you could be anything but. I never got tired of ogling you. I still do, though I have to admit, sometimes I am brought up short by the thought that you don’t have legs anymore. You don’t have anything anymore. Except a heart. You’ve got mine.
I spend a lot of time thinking about what you would be doing, if you were here, and wondering what you’re doing, wherever you are. I’m still curious about what you’re up to; you still fascinate me. We were so close, and knew each other so well, but it was still early in our life together when you left. So many questions I hadn’t yet had a chance to ask, with the kind of answers that come after many years of togetherness. I was really looking forward to those. And there are things I’m doing since you left that I really want to pick your brain about, and am frustrated and sad that I can’t. It is strange, though, because I realize that if you’d never left, there are some I wouldn’t be doing, so wouldn’t have asked you if you were here anyway. But I still want to talk to you about it.
I miss so much, everything, about you, but if I could have just one thing back, it’d be the conversation. I miss talking to you. It was always educational and hilarious. If all things are possible in the universe, I really don’t know why y’all can’t have e-mail access in the next life. There’d better be a damn good reason for it; I’m counting on it, or I’m going to be one pissed dead lady when the time comes.
Love,
Me