Dear David,
I looked for you today. It’s been nine months since I said goodbye, nearly one year since we were married and that means nearly two years since we met. How can I forget? The leaves are beginning to turn and autumn is in the air. It’s our favourite season.
After a heavy meeting at the lawyer’s, I went down miles and miles of back roads. Eventually I drove by your school and tried to imagine you driving down these same roads with your friends, young and mischievous and optimistic about your future.
I followed the Susquehanna River for a while, leaving the windows open and listening to a mix of music and the swish of leaves rustling as I drove by. I passed quaint names like Buttermilk Creek and passed up a thousand photo opportunities in favour of driving — just driving. I was tempted to stop at each fire engine red barn, every rusty tractor, vistas of multi-shaded valleys. But I didn’t — I just kept driving. I had to get past the legalese of the morning and the ire over unfair circumstances and think of your life as a journey filled with purpose and roadside attractions and adventure.
I ended up at Lake Winola and bought a sandwich to eat along the shore and sit in silence. Two fellows with a speedboat were curious when I pulled out the cameras to take photos and offered me a trip out on the lake. I was on Lake Winola all afternoon, enjoying the sunshine and waving at the other boaters and lakeside homeowners. It was a pleasant way to see this area for the first time, a place where you’d spent so much of your teenage years. I didn’t know you then, but if I did, I’d like to think we’d try and hitch a ride on a boat together… and if we were unsuccessful, we’d sit along the shore together and dangle our feet in the water and gossip about our teachers.
I’ll see you in Rhinebeck, honey. I’m bringing Hugh.
Tearfully,
Your Wife