August 12, 2011

Dear M,

When I think of you I think of possibility.  I think of those beaches we walked along, when all I wanted to do was hold your hand.  I think of the talks we had, and how scary and comforting and wonderful they were.  I think of how easily the conversations flowed with the understanding that passed between us.  There was so much we knew about each other in those moments and yet so much to discover.  It was so easy for me to imagine us building a life together.

When I think of you I think of the excitement you bring to a new discovery.  I think of wrinkle that forms between your eyebrows in the intense concentration you fall into when working with something new.  I think of the instrument you bought on that trip, of watching your eyes dart between the music and your fingers as you worked out how to play it.  There was nothing else in the world for you in that moment; just the discovery.  And for me in that moment there was only you.

When I think of you I think of how you make me want to be a better person.  I think of how much more adventurous I am when I’m with you.  I think of the wonder with which you approach the world, and how I long to capture even a fraction of it.  I think of how much that excites me and terrifies me all at the same time.  I think that maybe change isn’t completely scary and that maybe I could change for the better.

When I think of you I think of dreams.  I think of schemes hatched in the night.  I think of pledges made in the depths of the morning and promises to take action once the cool light of day comes.  I think of how these things atrophy once they come into contact with sunlight.  I think of the words catching in my throat when I see you.

When I think of you I think of the world getting in the way.  I think of the ghost of your boyfriend following us along those beaches.  I think of when I heard you two had broken up and the excitement and the fear that filled me.  I think of the paralysis that kept me from doing anything.

When I think of you I think of missed opportunities.  I think of hearing that you were moving to another state and thinking I could stop the thoughts of you.  I think of the moment I realized it doesn’t work that way; the moment I started to think of you again.  When I think of you I think of how strong hope can be.

When I think of you I think of how cowardly I am, writing all the things I want to tell you in places where you’ll never see them.  But most of all when I think of you, I think of how often I do.

              K