I’ve received amazing love letters over the years:
here is one:
This morning as I was stepping out of my commuting-mobile, I heard a beautiful sound. The sound of birds calling to each other through the still morning air. They circled high above as the muted dawn broke through layers of gray, their ineffable sound filling the space between the SUVs and the tree branches, between drudgery and joy. I stood alone in the parking lot, one hand on the laptop bag’s handle, one hand suspended in mid-air, and looked up,
Up at the avian world, up at nature, up at the love that has followed me ever since I met you. I breathed in deeply the smell of morning, I listened and tried to memorize the sound of the birds, tried to become a part of their world, if only for a moment. Their world is where I belong. Where we belong. Where we go in spirit when we stare out windows of moving cars, of high-rise office buildings, of all the little boxes.
Everyone else thinks the little boxes are all there is, but we know better. 2 years ago