Saturday afternoon we (WB and I) sat under the pecan trees while I read letters from the past. It was funny to read them because it was like getting a hug. I'd just randomly reach into the bag and pull out a letter.  One by one they reassured me that it would be okay.  I wonder if they knew that years later (in one case 35 years later) that I'd need them but that they wouldn't be there for me.
There are people here that try to reassure me too. They're failing miserably. My friends who sent the letters? They had one thing in common.  While each in there way pushed and pulled me through life? Not a one of them told me that I was broken and needed to be fixed.
The poem in the next post?
It's for them.
Please note? They aren't the ones who've been dumping their problems in my basket.  Instead, these are the people I'd been told were the wrong people for me to know. Billy (who showed me that art wasn't just a hobby and who was the best letter writer), IrishDavid ( like Billy, he didn't have so much trouble understanding), Damon (I'm glad that you were on that hill), Donna (my first real friend when I was a little kid), Gary, Jim, and John (who were the best of traveling companions), ... 

Like the Beatles song, "...I loved you more..."

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Now for the poetry. LOL, aw come on Gentle Reader, there are lots of people who just love this stuff.

Oh and hello Tai Chi  people  I'm stuck on Tiger carries mountain....
Need hugs.

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