“If love were snowflakes, I’d send you a blizzard,” she texted.
Where she was, below the equator, it was the middle of Summer. For me, Winter. Yet her words, warmed me. Clever words.
She was, is, clever. Checking in from time to time. Morning for her, middle of the night for me. A world away, yet here she is on my phone. An immediate connection.
Mysterious, yet ever-present. Making me feel as if I were living the Griffin and Sabine books. An extraordinary correspondence, to be sure. Going on seven years now. She’s a brilliant writer. Passionate, thoughtful, playful, sensual. She makes me bring my A-game when I write her back.
Some day, my dear J. Some day.