Beyond

Too many years and too many excuses may make this a futile attempt, but sometimes vast expanses can be bridged. Like so many footprints in the sand, time washes away all those tentative steps that got us nowhere. But, then again, here we are. Let's move beyond formalities and pick up the conversation as if nothing disturbed it in the first place.

Nothing.

Daunting blank page. Glaring white, taunting space. Empty. Waiting for something. I just don't do this very much anymore. A whim and a dumb idea to try and write a letter. Keep the hand moving, right?

So, what do you do? Always thought that was an odd question. Open ended, so difficult to explain. Shall I go into detail for you as to how I make my living? What I do when I'm not "working." What I'm really doing when I'm "working." And another one: "What brought you here?" I promised myself I wouldn't ask, but now I'm holding the record for most promises broken. That's fine. Pick your time, make your call. Check your hand again. I'll even write the salutation. So many words to convey so few thoughts.

It used to be the slightest noise would reverberate throughout your skull like a sonic boom. Sleeping was impossible. Conversations were problematic. You once asked where to draw the line. Don't worry. Something good will come of this. It used to be fun running from our multiple personalities. But now? It's no longer a game. We've been out-bluffed, out-witted, and now we're out-of-luck. Share your thoughts. Clear my head.

Dear me.