After yet another long absence, I’m celebrating my wholehearted return to the work involved in becoming a published memoirist. I’m now three years past my self-imposed deadline of procuring an agent by age 50, but who cares? Everything happens when it’s meant to happen, and I’m having a blast.
Today I offer you this darling, heartfelt missive from a lovesick tenth-grader: my dear friend T., now a happily married attorney. This is one of my favorite notes from her, as it contains an adorably detailed, Harlequin romance-style fantasy about her current crush.
T. and I have been friends since seventh grade–forty years, in other words. She recently embraced her note-writing roots and started writing letters again by hand on actual stationery. Though some of the topics have changed (she still writes about TV shows she’s currently into), it is both remarkable and delightful to see how consistent her thought patterns and writing style have remained.
Thank you for this masterpiece, T. We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?
Dearie! I appreciate that “heart to heart” talk you gave me in German class. It meant a lot to me and set me straight on a whole lot of problems (mental and physical) I’ve been having. You are a sweetie and I treasure your friendship. Many people don’t understand my feelings such as J., J. & everyone else. You and H.G. are the only two people I know who care. Well, J. cares but she can’t relate to my problems. J. doesn’t care at all! All she wants to know are the hard facts, she doesn’t care about the sweat & tears. I seriously thought that she was one of the people who cared about me! All she wants to do is tell C. junk & stupid stuff for me (as she calls it!). You see, J.L. got moi très interested in C. in the first place by telling me how cute, innocent, sweet, clean cut (don’t make any jokes about his hair) and lovable he is. She persisted and I slowly (but surely) fell madly in love with him. Now she ignores me.
Now, to get to my main subject of life, C.C. who is in 9th grade has beautifully hazel eyes and is the perfect height of 5’8”. I think of him always (the way you do of A.). Right now as I’m writing this letter I’m thinking of C. and me (me is the correct gramatical form becauce it is an object, Ha Ha) sitting in front of a blazing fire. He is just out of the cold outside with firewood. I’m sitting in front of the fire, staring out into it (thinking about C., of course). C. tiptoes behind me & creeps behind me. He puts his arms around me and his cold cheek against mine. My cheek is warm from the fire. We sit like that for awhile, looking into the fire. Then, C. speaks, “I love you”, he whispers into my ear. We kiss passionately. You know the rest. Through out the following series of letters I will be telling you my dreams of C. As you told me in German you have them too, with A. of course. When I’m washing the dishes, brushing my teeth, washing my hair, eating dinner or doing anything ordinary. Oh, I think about candle-light diners, him watching me proudly as I win Wimbledon or us dancing to the music of a radio in a secluded cabin during a snow storm. Can you believe my imagination? Well, there are no laws against wild dreams that will probably never come true. Please write me back and discuss your problems too, because I feel that I can relate to what you feel inside. It aches and makes your stomach turn the more you think of the problems. I think that together we can both overcome the problems we are both facing in this terribly difficult stage of growing up. I hope you agree with me because I am in despret need of a person to talk to. You already know it all and I think you care if I live or die. I feel so unwanted. Today in geometry I did a nerdy thing. D.M. asked me about “Mop head”. I still don’t know how he found out! I said “Don’t talk about him, he doesn’t like me!” D. replied with a “I know what you mean.” That left me stunned. I’m starting to discuss my life & problems with people I’ve known for awhile but not personnaly. Please excuse my terrible spelling, I’m not in the mood to spell correctly.
T. (the lonely one)
P.S. I’m happy cuz I’m drug-free.