My beautiful creature,
We have survived the long, long week away from each other. And it was shit, but we did it. We keep talking about this falling apart - the whatever is happening with that workplace, you getting cut... And it's scary. But... Whatever happens, we'll find a way. I don't know how, but we will.
We keep constructing everything, our universe bit by bit. Our coffee dates. Our walk plans. Hell, even the going to small markets to sell shit just so we could sit next to each other for a day. Something has to happen. We plan too much for all of it to fail.
For some reason I'm especially sure of it today.
You know what day it is.
A hard one, for sure. Work wise. But also... You know why. I just had to do something. And drawing that doodle of a robin was the first thing that I did when I sat down to listen to that weird, boring training session. Not coffee. Not even fully setting up the whole thing. The robin.
I just... I know I can't change how you feel. I can't really make things better, not in a way that actually matters. So I do what I can, like a tiny bird. Bring you rocks. Weird scraps of paper with stuff on them. Light snacks (well, I don't know if salted caramel and walnut pie constitutes as a light snack, but...)
And while I was sitting there a feathery fluff fell on my desk. Right before me. Right there in the middle. And I knew it was grandma. I just thought... How strange that this happened in that suffocating, grey, enclosed space. That it happened at all. On this day. To me.
Maybe they're both there, somewhere, just looking at us and giggling. They must be. How else can this be explained.
And here you have it - a feverish letter from a girl who has some weird beliefs that aren't based in anything scientific. Who talks to houses, looks at trees and sees gods that don't exist... It's all just a feeling. Just that. I am, probably, crazy.
- ish.
I got... A tiny robin for my garden today too.
You know my vent by now - the one I sit on every day, like a cat. I sat that tiny, ceramic robin right outside the window next to it. To keep the watch on the world with me. To look at all the blossoms around. To keep an eye on the squirrels and wood pigeons mashing around in the surrounding branches.
To make friends with all life.
I think you make friends with all life, too.
You can talk all about it being... Annoying. Painfully unpleasant. Whatever you want.
But I know that sun plays in that tiny dimple of yours. You know, the one on your right cheek.
Warmth lives there.
That might be her. That might be you. That might be both of you, all at once. We contain multitudes, my dear.
We contain multitudes.
And you'll carry that with you, forever.
Even today.
Maybe
especially
today.