distance

My Dear,

I think of how long and far something must travel to get from me to you. Of how much meaning it must hold to get there. Of the infinite number of ways it could be mishandled or damaged, how easily it could get lost or go missing. And suddenly it dawns on me how effortless it can be to disappear inside a space so protracted. Recall the many we have known who have disappeared within it, who we have let disappear. How you disappeared – your damage, your loss – but did not stray there. How you let all others go, but would have me stay. You are always closing the distance; this is how you show me my significance.

 

Yours,