bay turtle

a letter to a friend

I want you to know that I care whether or not you're here
tomorrow.

I want you to know that I pray for you. I like knowing when
I'm praying that somewhere, you're praying too.

I know this all sounds very cliched and trite, but I love
you, from one human being to another.

You amaze me with your knowledge of the extraordinary, and
through a series of letters and spaces, I try to make you
understand how proud I am of you, just for knowing those
things.

I don't think I've suceeded.

Every time that chime sounds, I know you need me. I do my
best to listen and make you feel wanted, worthy, but I
always feel that I'm lacking, somehow. I want to be able to
put my arms around your shoulders as we sit side-by-side
somewhere quiet, while you tell me everything that's
bothering you. I want to make everything O.K.

When I get a moment to log online, read my mail, write some
replies, my eyes are always drawn to the right-hand side of
the screen. Are you here? What are you up to? Is the world
treating you right? God, I hope it is.

Sometimes the world throws me lemons. You're usually around
to help pick up the peices, help superglue them back into
position (things never fit quite the same the second time
around, do they?). I have a bad day, and you're there to
hear me scream... Or maybe to hear me whimper from a
corner. You tell me you'll pray, and it sends me back to
God.

God's done such wonderful things with you, for you, in you.
I wonder if you can see it as easily as I can. I love you,
and I'm praying for you. Go with God in peace, brother.

Your friend,
Jess