Lake George, N.Y. 12845
Via email: you_n’email@example.com
Do you remember?
You wore a sheen of grayish blue with a collar of evergreen. You were calm, almost serene. I touched you and caused a shudder, a ripple through you. I withdrew, knowing, as you knew, that I would come back.
And I did. And I touched you more deeply, causing a wave, a cool, almost raw feeling that you were wont to reciprocate with a heat like the heat of a noon day sun. And you did. Do you remember these things?
I would say so many things to you, but silently so that no one else could hear but you. You would respond, you would react, lighting and shading and answering me with a charm…enchanting me.
Enchanted is the right word. It was magical and I was captivated and I wanted to remain always under your spell. I said so to you. I whispered it softly in your ear. Remember?
I told you that I had to tell her about us. I had no idea how she might react. She said that she wanted to meet you. It was raining, dank and chilly. But she didn’t care. You met. Then it warmed like when the sun shines.
She echoed Grace Slick and said, “Why can’t we go on as three?” And you assented with a shy and modest nod, a gentle bobbing.
And so we have ever now. For oh so many years now. And there are ripples and there are waves and we are upon them and within them.
My wife, Lake George and me.