Box of Letters

I found a box of letters this morning
Impassioned missives from two helpless lovers
Held apart by many miles on the road
But held together by each other

They were kinda cute
I think you’d like them

The girl was full of fire and wonder
An open world awaited
The boy finally on his own
He reveled in his new freedom
And life in the big city

They’d count the weeks
And then the days
Until they could at last be together
If only
For a few hopelessly short days

She’d threaten to drive up
In the middle of a lonely night

He’d begin to miss her
As he drove away from her apartment
On a Sunday afternoon

To fill the spaces
In between
They’d write about a future life
A life together
Filled with campfires
And impossible ideas
And unplanned road trips
To nowhere in particular

In another kind of world
We could meet these two

Maybe share some wings
And cold Budweiser
On a lazy Saturday afternoon

And talk about lives that are led
And lives that are followed
And trade sideways glances
As they laughed and touched

There’s a lot we could teach them about
How to be distracted and complacent

And how avoidance is a friend to inertia
And hearts can get hungry
Without proper care and feeding

But maybe also about how loosed bonds
Can be sealed
Through suffering and redemption

And that the burned-in kind of love
That comes with many years
Filled with a thousand moments
Of unspeakable heartache and glorious renewal
Is more vital
In some ways
Than the new, ecstatic kind
Even though you can’t get rid of it
Even when you’d like to

And about perseverance
That may or may not pay off
And whether
There is nobility in trying