Open Letter

You still have my first letter, and so you probably remember it better than I do. But what’s more important, perhaps, is what isn’t written. Not in any of them. I was bereft before I met you. Convinced, at last, that I’d always be alone in my relationships. They were sound and fury. Years of sea in every direction. And I didn’t tell you then how skeptical I was of olive branches. Of doves. I didn’t tell you that parity couldn’t exist. That strength would never be reinforced. Only coveted. Only taken by coup or petulance.

I was in a courtyard when I saw him. The pirate with blue polished nails. He told me I’d met a true partner. He said it. That we’d be level. Equals. No one looking down or up.

What I want to tell you now is that he didn’t convince me. You did. A relationship I’d never have to settle for, or be restricted by. Do you see what you’ve done? What you’ve brought me? I believe. I believe in parity. In reinforced strengths. Not the ideal, but the habit. To wake every morning to you. To a life of teeming potential. Relentless joy. Years ago, a girl walked into a bookstore. How could I know she was a beacon.

3 thoughts on “Open Letter”

  1. So great, tender and sweet. I sometimes hope that love downstairs can run like smoke up through the walls and vents and render me unconscious for just a little bit. I think you two are lovely.

  2. Thanks, Dena. That’s very kind of you. I hope we actually get to do the barbecue thing at some point. Even in the new place, we’ll just be minutes away.

  3. Oh you! Why is it every time you think of her, and you write all about it.. I smile cry?
    I remember her before you. Not a shell of a woman, just a seed.
    I love love love seeing you ladies being authentically in each others space. Yay!

    Cupcakes and pies.. We will have a party with that as the theme… Date and local to follow!

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