Dear Love Note:
Oh, you think you're SO crafty, hiding all this time, just waiting for the moment I would find you. You've been so patient, quiet, secretive, among that little notepad shaped like the letter "K." She bought me that little notepad back when she would buy me anything that made her think of me. I got little gifts every time she came to visit... gifts that other people might not care about, but I loved them because they came from her.
I can't even tell you... well, I guess you already KNOW how many little Ks I've found all over the place with little notes from her: "Hi princess!" "Good morning!" "I miss you!" "I love you, sunshine!" "I love you!" "I love you, Katie." Every time she came here, she found that K shaped notepad and took a sheet off of it, when I wasn't looking, when I was undoubtedly wasting time doing something other than spending time with her when she was HERE, she'd take a sheet each time and write one of these notes and hide it: in my medicine cabinet, in my pillow case, in my journal, in my nightstand, my sock drawer, my jeans pockets, my backpack, my work bag, my purse, my wallet, my car, my sheets...
And now I've come to see that she not only would tear the little Ks off, she left some notes AMONG the notepad, waiting to be torn off. See, the notepad, it's four different colors... and each new color begins with a sheet that has something scrawled on it in her handwriting, that handwriting that has made my stomach dance for THIRTEEN YEARS NOW. Jesus.
So I hope you're happy, little Love Note, written with the best intention, I'm sure... unaware at its conception that it would haunt me only five or six months down the road, reminding me that she used to be on her way here, and now she's caught somewhere in between my life and hers, telling me she loves me, telling me that she doesn't love her like the way I do... she doesn't stimulate her, attract and captivate her, miss her, existing just to kiss her, like the way I do.
It's funny, really. I mean, you're a sheet of paper. And you're a novelty sheet of paper at that... really, who wants a sheet of paper shaped like the letter K? And it's bad enough that I still find her hair everywhere, when I haven't seen her in months, a long piece of her curly hair will pop up on a shirt I haven't worn in a while... or worse, a shirt that I HAVE worn and have WASHED several times, but the stubborn piece of hair doesn't leave unless I pick it off and throw it away. Throw it away. Yeah, I know, Love Note, it's hair... but it's HER hair, and her hair is beautiful, just like she is.
Just when I'm ready to give time TIME... just when I'm ready to NOT call her, to let her go, to hurry up and wait... you pop up, unexpectedly. Oh, but how can I stay angry at YOU, little Love Note?
Thanks for keeping a sense of humor, Love Note. Thanks for keeping me guessing.
Here's to you, Love Note!
Happy Holidays to you and yours. In all truth, I don't think I've seen the last of you.