Letters

I just wrote a specific address across the white face of an envelope for possibly the last time. And it's bittersweet. I've grown fond of written correspondence and I'm afraid of losing that, of saying goodbye to this chapter of my life. Granted, the alternative is much sweeter. It's strange, though, how missing someone can transform into a solid presence, sloppily filling the hole left by the person gone. I'm slowly carving it out, clearing that space again, but the remains will not be entirely wiped out for some time. It will be a process, saying goodbye and hello all at once, walking through a door just before it closes. And I am almost ready.