My beautiful creature,
Today I went down the mountain.
I think today was the first day in a while when I was - I hope we were - calm. Or calmish.
Felt good.
Felt like we needed it.
You know how the glimmer in the snow is called in my language?
The suet / lard of the witch. I keep thinking about it every time I catch that sparkle through the corner of my eye. I breathe in. Breathe out the fear. Because I do have a lot of fear - healthy, necessary fear. But it's the good kind. The one that keeps you safe.
I wonder how your day went. I wonder what you did. How you felt. How you feel now, in the evenings, when everything is out in the open. I could just brush this off, but I'm slightly worried. Of course I am. I'm not going to lose sleep over it, but I do care. So don't overthink this. Don't. You would care too if our roles were reversed.
I hope you're ok. I truly do. God, be ok.
The days are weird. They feel so long and yet so short. They keep dragging out and then suddenly they're just gone and I'm one day closer to home. I don't want to go yet. It's fun. I like this - being destroyed by the elements, reminded of my own smallness by the mountains... But I also can't wait to be back.
Does this make any sense?
It's OK if it doesn't. I stopped asking. For now, at least.
I hope you see robins. Every day.
I hope the tea is still warm in your cup.
That the smile still touches your face.
Whatever happens, remember that you're unpaintoverable.
I'll be there to remind you if needed.