When Emily moved to Washington, DC last month and left me holding her bloomed-out amaryllis bulb, I didn't dream it would actually flower again so I've hardly given it a thought. Much less water, sunshine or attention. I've been too busy missing her, missing Yates and gnashing my teeth against winter. Until Monday when this gorgeous blossom began to unfurl and, with it, every crabby, clenched muscle in my body. Beginning with the heart.
When is the last time you found a personal note peeking out of your mailbox? From someone who gathered paper, pen or laptop (and thoughts) and focused solely on dear, wonderful you? Well, there will always be correspondence to open here. Love letters from life, written just for you.