Love Letters

How many times had I given up on love? Well, honestly, everytime it failed really, but eventually you reach a place where you don't mind being alone. Not to mention, all the time you save not having to paint your face or shave. Though, if you have any kids you might still want to do that last one because my five year old walked in on me in the restroom, you know where I'd let my inner hippie grow out in full. After shooing her away she pops back in the bathroom, "I know why you don't want me in here."
"Oh really, why?"
"I know your secret."
I swallow her next eviction notice because now I'm curious, secret, what secret could my oldest daughter possibly have discovered while catching me on the pot?
"Okay, what is it?"
And like every child she has to whisper this secret in my ear, "you're part werewolf."
I find my eyes traveling down to my whoo-ha, following her gaze, and I consciously rearranging my skirts, even though I'm still modestly covered. She must have caught the confusion in my eyes because the next thing out of her mouth confirmed it.
"Mommy it's all that hair!" She's pointing now, "but don't worry," she gives me a hug, "I won't tell anyone you're a werewolf."
I bust out laughing.
"MOM! It's serious. Pawpaw told me what happened to Frankenstein and I know all about werewolves too. Someone has to hide the silverware or you're going to hurt yourself!"
I watch her leave in a huff. Shaking my head, still laughing to myself, I decide it's time to shave the legs and nether-regions, and afterwards I might need to discuss with Pawpaw what's an appropriate bedtime story.
That's about the time my sister calls me about being pen-pals with one of her Navy buddies. Some sob story about deployment, his parents living in Colombia, and how lonely he must be ultimately convinced me to let him write. The Lord knows, I didn't have high expectations for military guys, not after my illiterate ex, but Mike surprised.