Paul McCartney - Love Life

I'll Write To You Too

     I met up one last time to say my farewell to Heather, and it was in a secret area I knew at the airport just before the gate to the plane back too London.  We were facing one another, she had a light blue scarf around her neck, and a light brown coat, a pink undershirt, and blue jeans.  She had the same face upon her the night we had met, I was wearing a light blue collared shirt, a dark black frock coat, and dark black trousers, we seemed quite awkward at the time but, I knew it won't be long.  

   We talked for a few minutes about what we were going to do while we were away, she told me she had the same "boring" job as usual, although I never thought the job she has was boring at all, in fact I thought it was very creative, and I gave her luck for her next article.  Heather then had asked me about what Liverpool was like, and I simply told her it was nothing but a bunch of old monuments and colleges, she then laughed.  When she laughed her smile was a brilliant white, she had a perfect, beautiful smile that I admired.

  I had told her that I would try to write everyday, anything to bring our friendship closer no  matter how far apart we were.  She liked that I told her that, it was something comforting to know at least, however, the intercom spoke above us, and they were now boarding my flight back to Liverpool, I turn to look back at her face one last time, she spoke to me,

"Well, you should better get going, you don't want to miss your flight yeah?"

"Yes, that's correct." I hesitated looking at the ground lifting up my  dark brown travel bag over my right shoulder.  

Just I had stood there for one last moment, and I came in close and tucked her beautiful dark brown hair behind her ear, there was a soft gasp from her, as if her heart had skipped a beat.  I gave her one last smile, and I turned to jog up to my flight.

  Meanwhile she stood there, frozen, silent, but full of hope, she sighed, "Paul McCartney."

.........................................

     I sat near the window while John read his book beside me, on the other side of the isle sat George and Ringo together.  John Lennon had closed his book when it became too dark to read and he looked over to me and said,

"Say Paul, you haven't gotten any biscuits in your bag do you?"

   I went and pulled the bag out from under the seat in front of me and I tossed a biscuit to Lennon, he thanked me, then I pulled one out for myself and I began to eat hungrily.  Soon the smell of the biscuit had gotten to George that was on the other side of the isle and he asked for one from me as well, I handed it too John, and he handed it too George across the isle from us.  I honestly felt like I was a mother too them, but, what can I say?  I brought a long too many snacks for myself, I'm sure Harrison would eat them all in one sitting.

  Ringo had already fallen asleep with his head against the plane window, George had brought out his orange blanket and placed it upon Starkey.  He looked over to Lennon giggling as if he were one of the fangirls, only quiet-er.  For me, I became sleepy as well, I closed the plane window, folded my arms, and fell asleep for a while.

.............................................

     "Paul, Paul you've gotta wake up we're here." I heard John's voice.  I lifted my head up off of John's shoulder, it seemed like I drifted off too sleep with my head upon my friend's shoulder, which was quite funny.  We soon got our things and we could hear the screaming of Liverpool fans outside of the plane.  John Lennon had put on his black captains travel hat and his large carry on bag.  Soon he lead the way out, me behind John, George behind me, and Ringo in the back.

     It was nice to see the people and fans of Liverpool had come to greet us again, and I was glad too be home, although as I stepped off the plane with me' friends, I thought about Heather again, for how beautiful she is, and I knew what I wanted to write to her the day I had gotten home back to Liverpool.

  When I was back in my flat, just by myself.  I sat at my desk and brought out a piece of paper and began to write to her;

February 11th, 1964,

Dear Heather Rosemary,

I've returned home safely in Liverpool, London.  I hope you are feeling fine as well, I'm sending you this message to ask about how things are going back there in new York with the Washington Post.  Here in my home it's a bit lonely every now and then, all I've got are me' friends and family, but, you know how things can get when you spend too much time with your friends, sometimes I feel like being alone with someone new.  

 George doesn't believe I can have a distant relationship but, I think I can prove him wrong.  I honestly believe that you are one of the most beautiful girl that I've ever met, and no one is going to derail me from liking you.  Your hair, tucked behind your ear, like dark chocolate like I always say, I can still see your gorgeous deep emerald eyes starring off into the dark night skies.  Ha ha, my poetry, I still mean it too you of course, because, who else has what you have?

 I hope you get my little message, and even though we may be far apart, I'll still see you again someday.  John says "Hi" by the way ha ha, anyways, I've got to go now, but I'll still write too you every week.

Respectfully yours,

Paul McCartney

     I folded up the piece of paper and put it into an envelope, I placed my address, name, and too the Washington Post where she worked.  I then went out and placed it in the mail box out in front of where my flat was, and then returned back inside to make myself another cup of tea.