Alicyn's Shorts

Love Letter One

My dear old friend,

It had been awhile since I have seen you and I find myself thinking about you every here and there.

I have found myself staring into space when I should focus on where my feet are treading. I find it to be a curious thing. How your entirety can fill my mind and break my train of thought.

We walked passed a river the other day and as we rested near, and I went to wash the dirt from my cheek, I could only think that your hand was just as cool.

Why am I feeling this way?

I can find you in the smallest of things. From the wind that moves my hair from my face, to the moon always watching over me.

Such as I watched the small fire my brother built and could only be reminded of the tug on you mouth and raised brow when I always said something that amuses you.

I suppose you think I am quiet queer, but I know of another time where I felt this way. A very long time ago, when I still had not hit my internal age of thirty two. When I would leave mother's home to tread through the field of Greece until I hit the sea, to listen to her sighs and songs as the dark sands seemed like the edge of the world.

I would often take prayer there, among the tide and froth. The moon hanging low as if to touch her fingertips against the deep water.

I would often think of you then, the way your white mask seemed almost as bright and the darkness was almost just as warm.

But I feel as if this is a different feeling.

It pulls and aches in my chest as if my heart was the tide, pulling and weaning to and fro. I cannot seem to still this emotion until you appear again in front of me.

I am suddenly still and waiting, then you beckon me and I feel whole once more even though before I never knew there was something missing.

Then you call my name. Rhea. Again, that ache and I could listen to you forever saying my name.

What does this mean? What is this feeling?

Rhea