I want to tell you something I know, but after I start I just want to tell you what I hope you want to hear. Maintaining the look in your eyes when you like what I’m saying becomes more important than anything else.
I want to say whatever comes to mind as we cross the country one county at a time. I want to make you laugh and make you think. I want to hear you gasp as we crest a hill and see an unimagined vista emerge.
I want to ask you why. Why? I want to ask Why not? But those are worthless questions with meaningless answers. We can never know the “Why?”s Not even our own. Most of us can’t even agree on the What Happened. Much less Why.
I mostly just want to say I love you. Over and over. Maybe if I say it enough, you’ll hear it on the breeze or feel it in a dream.
I never expected to be able to talk to you or see you when I did, so there’s no point in worrying about the next time. It’ll happen when I don’t expect it. But it will never be soon enough.
Sixty years 