Dear Jeannette,

I guess using the word love makes me come off a bit creepy.

I’ve been told I toss it around lightly, but I do not.  I toss it around frequently, but not lightly.  There are many people I love.  I use the word freely and without shame.  I love a good number of the people I encounter regularly,  and I am not ashamed to show it or say it.  There are even a couple of guys I am not embarrassed to say I love.

I suppose there are many ways to use the word, and I use it in a way that won’t make most of the others blush.  I use it mainly to describe the approximately dozen or so people that run through my mind and make me smile just about every day.  There’s twitchy who crosses my mind every time I see someone be selfish or smile infectiously at the most inopportune and inappropriate times.  There’s my ex-wife who I still think about and smile whenever anything markedly Jewish happens.  There’s my sister who is the embodiment of non-resenting generosity that almost seems hostile.  There’s this one guy who reminds me of so many things I used to love when I was living another life, but cares so genuinely for people.  There’s the most relaxed and relaxing guy in the world, who I haven’t seen or even spoken to in way too long.  There’s the crazy guy with the wife and kids who I think of whenever I see balance in the world.  There are a few others.  And they all cross my mind.  Every day.

And so do you.  You cross my mind every time I see binary numbers, which is all I’ve been working on for the last two weeks.  Apples and honey.  Karate.  Meth heads.  My old car.  My wedding song.  Most 80’s songs too.

But also, like all these people, you are this statue on my mantle.  Each of these people that I love represents something I value.  The fact that I love them speaks more about me than them.  The fact that I love you, too, is mostly about me.  All these little things and about a dozen more make me think of you.  And I get this picture of a statue on my mantle.  As beautiful as a statue on a mantle is, it doesn’t tell you much about the statue, but speaks volumes about the person who chose it.

You’re statue is Wookie.  You’d be so proud.  You use so few words.  You care too much.  You get the job done, whether you like it or not.  You’d probably be good in a bar fight too.  I can just imagine handing Chewie a piece of cake and waiting for a response.  At the same time, there’s no one I’d rather have in my corner.  Don’t think for a moment that I don’t think you’re beautiful, but the more important thing is that you do not fail.  Your story is one of being given every reason to fail, but refusing to do so.  You have every excuse in the book, yet you’ve used none.

Now, really the reason I mentioned all this is I want you to know that I’ve meant every word.  Certainly names have been changed and there is a little literary exaggeration to accompany the alliteration..  I definitely didn’t think I was going to die last month.  The important thing to call your attention to is the fact that I really don’t think we’d ever work out and I have never been waiting for you to be available.  I just wish there was some way to make a Wookie understand how important they are to you.

I wish there was some way for you to understand that you are possibly the most inspiring person I’ve ever met.  You are definitely the most inspiring beautiful woman I’ve ever met that could love being compared to a Wookie.

I just wish we could have more conversation than that Indian guy from Big Bang Theory and a hot Wookie.  I am sorry I ever said anything that made you think you couldn’t say absolutely anything to me.  You can.  Silence may be golden, but our old conversations were magic.


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