Saturday, June 27, 2009

Love Letters

When I was in Australia last year, while staying in Cairns, I'd have to go to the local convenience store to use their internet terminals. One day, I sat down at the computer and noticed that the woman ahead of me hadn't logged out of her mail. I went to log out for her, but on the way something caught my eye. The screen showed an email she had just written and some of the lines jumped out at me. I felt voyeuristic and shady, but I couldn't help copying her email and sending it myself. I had forgotten about until I came across it in my email today. I'd like to share it with you. I'm removing her name and I give her all credit for writing this.

Subject: Just to say I love you

My dearest dear,

In some way, I feel that this time apart is bringing us closer together. The only thing that we can do right now is talk, either by phone, or by mail. There can be no touching, or gazing, or holding - only talking. And so we get to know one another better, in a different way.

Of course, there is still thinking and feeling. And all sorts of things make me think of you. Some are obvious: arriving at Cairns airport, and seeing all of the different planes, some so small they look like toys, helicopters with only one rotor, big planes, I couldn't help but smile and think what a kick you'd get out of it. So I got a kick out of it for you. And being on the beach today, and a memory stirred of you stopping while we were walking once on Lower Rosses to take off your shoes. It is a bittersweet memory, because I was angry with you, and we weren't talking, but I remember very much wanting not to be an angry woman walking ahead of you. But it was also, I believe, our turning point, or perhaps only one of them - it was the moment we decided to try counselling. And I remember moments like that, and thinking - and feeling - that so often I've been lucky not to lose you because of my anger, and wanting to make sure I never do anything to drive you away. And I think of you when I see all the tacky touristy stuff. And I think of you when I'm eating, and wondering what you might enjoy. And I think of you when I'm in the cinema, or watching TV, and wondering what you would make of what I'm watching.

A moment I think of a lot, for some reason, is the first time we went to the Radisson, and you asked me to spend the night with you. And how that made me feel. Like somebody reached inside me and squeezed my heart. How your hand, gently touching my shoulder, made me feel. How I longed to kiss you. And did - just a little one, but I wanted you to know that I wanted you, even though I was saying no.

I never knew it was possible to love somebody, or to feel loved by that somebody, this way. I always thought that it was something either just for the movies, or other people, but not for me. And the way it gets stronger, and deeper, and more sure. And easier. It makes me want to wrap myself around you as tightly as I can, and merge with you, physically, emotionally, spiritually. Sometimes the way I feel for you overwhelms me, but it never scares me.

I find myself thinking of things that I hope will make you laugh, because I love to hear you laugh, and I love the fact that I make you laugh. I feel that if ever I stop making you laugh, if you ever stop finding me amusing, we are doomed. And yet the idea of you and I - us - not being - is incomprehensible. So any fear I have on that front is balanced by the utter ridiculousness of such a fear.

I hold images in my head of you. Standing on the beach, flying your planes. The time we flew the kite, and how patient you were with me, and the delight you took in my success. More than anybody I have ever met, you allow me to be fully, completely, and only me. You give me such freedom. I thank my lucky stars, God above, Cupid or whoever is responsible for bringing you to me. The way you look at me, and your smile. Your profile. Whenever I see you in profile, I am moved by some feeling I cannot fully articulate - it makes me want to be gentle with you, and keep you safe.

I am becoming much more aware of how tiredness affects you, now that the only barometer I have is your voice. I can hear such a difference between morning you and evening you, and it makes me concerned for you. It makes me want to do whatever I can, whatever you will let me do, to take care of you. I want you to take care of you, if not for yourself, then for me.

You complete me. I never understood before you what that meant - not really. I thought it was romantic twaddle. But it's not. It's real. I am at my best, my most content with you. I want to spend every minute I can with you, and it does not matter what, if anything, we do - what is important is being with you. And I realise that being with you does not necessarily mean being physically in your company. The wonder of technology means that when we talk, I can pretend that you are close by, because you sound close by. And the best thing about this holiday is knowing that you are at the end of it, and the excitment I feel at the thought of seeing you again.

You're mine, and I'm yours. And I never want it any other way.

You are my love, my soulmate. You have my heart.

Forever mine,
forever yours,
forever ours.

[Name Withheld]

--taken by me on Trinity Beach in Cairns, Australia. This was the beach in front of our hotel.--


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