I wish I could say this was out of character, that is, me not knowing what I’m going to write to you until I write it. I’ve found that the only way I can say what I want to say in these notes/letters is not to think too much about it ahead of time.
I’ve missed talking to you these past few weeks. Some things have been going on in my life, some of them quite worrying, and I’ve found myself wanting very much to talk to a friend, to talk to you, actually, since in spite of all of the very good friends I’m blessed to have, you are still the best I’ve ever known.
It’s been hard, I know, to stay in touch these past few years. If it weren’t for my stubborn persistence (which I hope didn’t bother you too much), I’m not sure we could have managed it. And it’s been hard for me sometimes to be sure whether or not you actually wanted to keep in contact, whether or not I’ve been making a bigger fool out of myself than I’d ever thought possible.
The weather up here has finally begun to cool down, which has led me to resume my old habit of taking very long walks with no particular destination, a habit which, if you want, I’d love to share with you someday.
Until then, may green grass find you always,