The 14th of February 2015 – Exit 7A, New Jersey Turnpike

(found in the box of homemade chocolates)

Dear Martha,

There’s a feeling in my back, Martha, a feeling in my back that I have because there are these feelings that I lack. There are these feelings that other people have that I just don’t have, or – at least – I don’t have them in the same quantity. I don’t have them with the same ease.

I don’t have happiness and joy and that loving warmth one will get when the baby looks innocently into the eyes and smiles with pleasant naivety. I don’t have them, or – at least – I don’t have them as often as I should.

Instead I have this feeling in my back. It is a cold, heavy feeling, and it drags me down. It is an anchor that sits on my spine, that tightens the muscles of my lower back until I fear they will rip like an overstressed rubber band. Instead I have this feeling in my back.

But, Martha, that feeling melts away when I’m sitting on a bench in a garden and watching the sunset and being right there next to you. There is nothing else I need. Suddenly I feel safe in the world.

I have never seen anything last, Martha, and – so – I lack faith. I lack security. I lack love for the universe. I do not believe it is a possible thing, an actual thing – for anything to last, for any ending to be truly happy.

But I see your eyes, and I know that there is nothing else I need. I feel warmth. I feel as though my lifetime of grief could be all worthwhile. I see a possible future, and it is shining brightly. Suddenly, with you, I feel safe in the world.

There is no longer that feeling in my back.

Heartfelt and True,

Harold

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