Dear A,
Sometimes I get the horrible sinking feeling that I'm in the way... and maybe if you weren't so sweet you wouldn't put up with my incessant desire to worm my way into every crevice of your world. Maybe if you didn't care about how I felt you wouldn't answer the phone on your way to the bathroom in a bar where you're celebrating an exhibition that I didn't know about, or worse, forgot. But you are sweet, and you do care, and I'm so spoiled because you not only put up with my crazy, but accept it and maybe even love me for it. And you do answer the phone even when you don't have to.
I hope I'm not more trouble than I'm worth. I hope that we talk all the time because you really want to, and not because you think you should.
I want you to know, if I haven't said it enough or recently or at all, that I am so incredibly grateful for you. And even if I told you every second of every day, it wouldn't be enough. I don't know what I did to deserve your kindness, but it certainly wasn't moving across the country when I should have moved in with you.
Someday, somehow, I swear I'll make it up to you. I promise that for as long as you'll let me, I'll make you feel loved and supported, even if it's just as your friend. I'll send you job postings or links to writing groups or stupid articles about whether or not a fish can drown. I'll plan trips you'll never go on, just to show I'm thinking of you. I'll listen when you need it, and give you my opinion when you ask for it, and tell you what to do when you should hear it.
If you're Bruce Lee and I'm the girl in the red dress, I'll always be filled with overwhelming exaltation when you tell me I'm loved. And I will never, ever take it for granted.
Love, M
No comments:
Post a Comment