Letter 49
Dear You,
I sat down to write. I had things to say. I wanted to write about how frustrated I have felt. How completely out of touch with you I have been. How out of touch with myself I have been.
We accidentally got drunk last night. It wasn’t our fault! We only had two drinks each and I clearly under tipped our waitress. Really she only has herself and those strong drinks she made to blame. 12% who tips twelve percent? A drunk insecure long black dress, with freezing hands, that’s who.
We talked about how grumpy you get in the middle of the night when your bones are heavy and resting on the couch. How every time I urge you to come to bed, so you aren’t sore and regretful come morning. I whisper sweetly, and you are always a shit. You used to kick your sister in the mornings before school when she would tell you to get your ass up. I head up stairs with a grain of salt and find my place on the right side, knowing eventually you will find your place on the left. And come morning and your aching bones, I promise I won’t say I told you so.
dinner talk, then we walked home. We both fell asleep on your couch last night. Tetris but with flesh and bone. Eventually I went to bed. I woke up to the sound of my phone hitting the hardwood floor. My phone with an alarm set for 8 underneath your bed. You woke up from the noise of me shuffling things to reach it, but my arms were just too long. You woke up upset, just like the you forced to get out of bed as a kid. I was so mad at you. I hate going to bed mad at you.
That 8am alarm came too early. And I blame my headache on the under tipped waitress, but made my way to the coffee shop despite the pounding.
My friend that I had never met, but my friend none the less, came to meet me, early morning coffee breath. We talked about all the things you talk about when you are friends. Life is weird and hard, we can both attest to that. I told her how you don’t listen sometimes and that it is OK, we are both just doing our best. We are different in so many ways you and I, but we still fit. I couldn’t say why or how, we just do.
We talked about sex and love and work and our bodies and where we’ve been and where we want to be and today and all that it brings and all the shit we have to do or want to do or might not do. We agreed how incredibly important timing is. You and I are proof of that. And despite the fact that I am emotional and irrational and sometimes might be a lot to deal with and sometimes you are selfish and suck at listening, we are the good stuff. I told her how all I ever wanted was a man to write me post it notes of love. And I opened my book and showed her the colorful squares with your words on them all stuck together in a beautiful mess, And I cried. Because there I was with my new friend, sharing our hearts and warm drinks and realizing that her and I are so different too, and so much the same and of course in that moment, I loved you more, because that’s how these things go darling. It’s still early, but it is a damn good day.
I sat down to write because I had things to say, but now I must go… You’ve just woken up and I have French toast to make.
Love, Me
