I'm sorry it's taken me twenty years to reconnect with you. I'm not sure what I was thinking. A bit of me didn't know where I could send you, so few seem to be interested in letter writing anymore. But I got over that and decided to reconnect with you even if others weren't.
Since we last me in person I've been emailing, skyping, blogging and talking on my cell phone. But I missed you. Your presence in my mailbox. The crinkle of paper, smudged ink, a written address on your envelope instantly revealing the sender because of the handwriting. Oh I know some of my missing you is age and sentimentalsm. But it's also getting to a point in life where I realize how important you are.
I hope you're treated well. I hope people recognize your sincerity and don't think I'm a fool for reconnecting with you. Sometimes I feel a bit silly and embarrassed by my love of you. But that's my pride speaking, so I quite intend to keep loving you and not worry about man's opinion of you and I.
Thanks for helping me connect with people, love people, learn of people, share of myself, and leave behind a bit of history (all knowing it could be at the bottom of some garbage dump). That's ok though, for you know what we've shared.
So wonderful to talk with and through you. I look forward to many more meetings through the mail. You are part of present and part of my past!
With Great Affection, A Year of Letters