My love, the distance is great and the time even greater. I feel the space between us creeping again and it makes my heart hurt. When we parted in New Orleans you said that you didn’t know how you could go so long without seeing me. The timing of that yoga conference would have worked out well, but I understand your trepidation. There are hurdles, there are fasehoods, and there are intricate plans that are just too much to bare in the end. I know. I understand.  I write and I text and I tell you about my mind and my heart and try to stave off the increasing gap. I’m getting weary, but I can’t throw in the towel because I can’t stop loving you the way I do.  I know that I can’t dictate the terms of a reconciliation, but it really makes me resent you some times.  Why did I say “until my birthday?”  Did I really think it would be that easy to just wait for you, knowing that you vacillate from 80% to 50% certainty.  I know honey that you have concerns and worries, as do I, but you should know that I appreciate you more than ever and willing to work-out whatever it is that concerns you. Nothing is more important than you. Are we talking tomorrow?  

I went to the cutest little cafe earlier to pick up a cake for my mother’s birthday soiree tonight. It’s a prescious little spot. A house turned into a cafe. Cute little indoor rooms to dine in. Overgrown vines ensconce the outdoor seating. And the food and baked goods are so good.  So much like a place you’d find in Nola, but healthier food and the waitstaff has much less body art (and probably smell better too). Lots of young couples, some dating, some married, some with little babies. I wanted you, my partner, there with me so badly. Damn this waiting game. Miss you. 

My love, allow me to elaborate a bit as to why I say “have a good weekend.”  When I say that I really mean that I hope that your weekend(s) will be lackluster without me.  I want you to enjoy yourself and relax because you deserve it of course, but I also want you to think of me, wish you were with me instead of him, and even call or send me a message when you’re a bit tipsy and can’t fight the urge anymore.  I can’t call you when I get the urge to reach-out, and I truly don’t want to overwhelm you with a text message every time I have a thought or feeling that I’d like to share with you.  So I take a breath, bite my tongue, control my urges, and simply wish you a good weekend.

This is either a testament to the truth of my sincere and enduring love for you, or it’ll be evidence in court for a restraining order. 

Erin, my love, I know that I can not wait another three months to see you in person. I will have to figure out some way to see you, touch you, kiss you, even if it’s fleeting. I don’t care, I must. 

If there was such a thing as a love-o-meter, a fate-o-meter, or even a get-you-preg-o-meter, I would challenge any man to test himself against me. 

I have never loved somebody as much as I love you, and I suspect I never could.  

I’m checking out and getting ready to ride back. It’s a long, meditative ride. I think of you much of the time and wonder what you think. I don’t hear much of what’s going on in your head. I want to know, baby. I know that we have some work to do on our verbal communication, but until that time how can you communicate your thoughts and feelings with me. This site allows me the forum to pour out my random thoughts, feelings and inspirations, and there needs to be a way for you to communicate those things with me.  If we’re really doing this, which I am betting the farm we are, then we’ll have to build up our talking and communicating. Though we know each other very well already, it might feel less than natural to go from a few texts and one brief verbal call per week to suddenly every day, all day. Can we somehow increase the frequency?   But I’ll take you any way you come (clean thoughts here). 

Where are you?  I can see an apparition in the distance, through the haze of time and distance. I can almost make you out. My reach almost touches. But I can’t quite grab you. Come closer. 

My love, I know you struggle. I sometimes feel that I now your thoughts like I know my own. I know you struggle with the questions, the decisions, the feelings that you have, the outcomes, the feelings of others… What to do?  What’s right?  What really is the best. I have asked myself the same of late and I found the answers that I needed… In a place I hadn’t thought to look… In my bones. I know in my bones that you are and always were the woman for for me. And though my bones may be biased, they also tell me that I’m the right man for you. And when we’re together, face to face, hand in hand, lips to lips, its such an obvious truth that neither of us could dare  deny.  Wouldn’t you agree?