Dear Sleep,
I can imagine how the drastic increase of light must make it difficult for you to thrive, but I really need more of you in my life. Please stay a little longer each night, and don’t let that mercurial sun fool you so.
Dear spring,
You’re pretty. Can’t wait to see what you’ll do in the trees.
Dear Will Oldham,
I crave you like fresh basil every spring.
Dear church on the hill,
Please give my kind regards to your south lawn, because its yellow wildflowers brought our dinner table to life this weekend. [P.S. remember that neon strobe light you put in the clock tower around New Years? Yeah, not your best idea. Trust me, the regular clock face is stylish enough.]
Dear raspberry sorbet,
You are so much better than the cactus lime sorbet.
Dear Jeffrey Eugenides,
Your Middlesex gets more interesting by the page. And when I say interesting, I mean that my questions are piling up. I wonder how many of them you’ll answer. Curiosity keeps me going. And when I say going, I mean nonstop.
To whomever scribbled the word Listen on the signpost in the park,
Thank you. I did, and it was breathtaking.
To whomever spray-painted Aryan on the electrical boxes along the highway,
You are an asshole.
To the girl in the navy blue polka-dotted dress and the guy in black suspenders,
There was something special about you two. We’ve never met, and probably never will, but I’ve written a story about you. Blue ink, little circles scattered across two pages, just like her dress.
Dear Wind,
Your strength is that of Boreas, but like Zephyr, you are ushering in the spring. What shall I call you? It doesn’t have to be Greek.
Dear Haloumi Melon Avocado Salad with Lime-Mint Dressing,
It was a sweet and savory pleasure to meet you. I hope we meet again very soon.
My dear feet,
You are flat, but capable. Tired and calloused, but eager to please all of my demands. I know you like to dance, to feel the grass, and the sand. I know you hate being wet, or cold, or smothered in socks and shoes. And so I understand what a difficult year its been for you. All I can say is that I’m sorry. I don’t know when the circumstances will improve, but I promise to care for you as best as I can. Very grateful for your loyalty.
Dear Sweden,
I cannot thank you enough for the clean air, the clean water, five weeks of paid vacation, free healthcare, and your support for my endeavors. Oh, and thanks for the boat ride yesterday too. And for your amazing libraries, cinemas, nature trails, cafés. No place is perfect, but I consider it a true privilege to call you home for now.
To my dearest,
You covered me like leaves through the winter. Thank you.
Dear Monday,
I’m ready.
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