
The night before my Saturday adventure is spent listening to the storm and wondering if the park will be wet grass. Staying up late to work on this project.
For months a daily went to a singular inbox. Read–no, just skimmed. Objective of reading was to find a glimpse. Glean a glimpse? I turned them all loose with purpose. A purpose almost as unique as the contents of each message.
My originals filed, each sent to Tim. But are his the shadows of copies or are the blog posts the shadow? I don’t want to over analyze the meaning… Posting them all is a love letter to Tim. It’s honest language for what they were. Detailed sharing, me wanting to be understood, seeking connection, hoping for response. That’s what love letters do. I’ve named it accurately. And now posting them on the website is like taking them all back.
Don’t need to answer. Just noticing the paradox. They were written for him. Now they’re mine again, public. Both/neither might be “real.”
The thunder stopped. All I hear is the clock ticking







