Long Distance

We are tied together by the modern teenage phenomenon of texting. Hide your head, cover your face, deny it all you want, but we are undeniably and inexcusably
dependent upon it.

We smile at each other through emoticons and laugh together with LOLs. We give up romantic weekends out for late night video chats. You can't kiss me goodnight at my doorstep, so you call me, instead. For what we believed to be the most integral parts of a relationship,we have managed to find substitutes.

I hesitate to tell you, but I do wonder. I wonder what it would be like to not feel this way. To not wonder how much longer I can hold my heart together as it s t r e t c h e s the hundred miles to you.To go on double dates and show you off with more than just a picture. To know you're here when I need you. To see you without busses and trains and planning. To have you.

I am afraid, because I forget. I forget the way your neck smells when I burry my head into you. I forget the scratchy, tickley feeling of your beard when you rub your chin on my cheek. I forget the roughness of your palms when you take my hand. I forget the softness of your lips and how they fit over mineand the slight sigh
you make when we kiss.

But as much as I wonder and as afraid as I may be there is no other way, there is no other choice, there is no other life for us, anymore. My heart has wandered blindly, somehow making its way to you, and I don't think that it can ever find it's way back, without you.

I will smile with emoticons, if you will be the one smiling back. I will lower myself to LOLs, as long as it means that you are laughing. I will skip romantic weekends out, if you will be on the other side of the video. I will give up goodnight kisses, if you will be the one to call, because I know that at some point, no matter how long it may be, these things will come, and I will have you for more than a weekend, for more than a phone call, for more than a text. I will have you.

excerpt from an unfinished novel

My love,

Yesterday, it was so beautiful out. I remembered how much you used to love the fall, the leaves changing. You told me how, as soon as the first leaf changed color, we would take a walk together and listen to our feet shuffling in the crumbling leaves, blanketing the street. It might be chilly, you said, so you would hold me tight as we walked, until I was warm. That could take a while, you said, because it’s supposed to a very cold. I thought about that all today, wishing it could be.

I decided to take a walk that afternoon, as soon as I came home. It was the time of day when the sun is still shinning brightly, but its light is slowly fading away into a thin layer of golden dust, that sprinkles the tops of the trees and lines the clouds. You know what I mean, don’t you? It was stunning. The wind blew lightly, a cool breath. Every time the wind sighed like that, the trees began to rain, and dropped their multicolored raindrops on the ground.

Mr. Dailey was outside raking when I came out the door. He saw me, and I watched as he gave my lawn a disapproving look. Maybe, if I wait long enough, he’ll come and rake those leaves for me, since it’s such a burden for him to see them. I see no point, though, in trying to fix something that isn’t broken. You can rake your yard anytime of the year, but it’s not too often that you can step outside on a bright, beautiful day and walk through a rainbow scattered over your lawn. Besides, you can rake and rake and rake, but those will just drift back to the exact place they started from, and you will have to do it all again. I wanted to tell Mr. Carson this, but I don’t think he would understand. I’ll probably rake the yard tomorrow.

I walked down to the lake. It was still and quiet, as it usually is, you remember. The only movement was an occasional ripple from a fish jumping or an acorn plopping into the water or the wind slightly rocking the surface, creating gentle waves, that lapped up the shore. I sat on the dock for a while, throwing rocks, watching their ripples spread throughout the entire lake. It was just me there, which is sometimes a sad thing; I like watching the children playing and the older couples, strolling around the perimeter of the lake, hearing their voices. It gives me something to concentrate on. Today, however, it was nice. No disruptions or noises or anything. I sat there, under an oak three, a few feet away from the water and watched.

I dreamed of you, but it seems so far away now, I can’t remember anything, except that I woke to the sound of a dog barking. I shifted my weight in my sleep and felt something crunch underneath my weight. My eyes snapped open. I had completely forgotten where I was. In a moment, the sound of water sloshing messily against the shore, the coolness of the grass against my skin, and the crunching of leaves and sticks underneath me made sense. It’s so easy to fall asleep there, completely absorbed in my own thoughts.

I wiggled my toes a few times, then slowly stretched out my legs, letting the life seep into my bones, and travel up my spine and into my arms which spread far out to the side, slowly uncurling my fingers, until sleep finally released itself from my lips through a yawn. I pressed my fingers against my neck; it was sore from being propped up against that tree for so long. I hadn't even realized that I was tired.

Time can do that, you know. It can leave you in its past, without you even knowing. Then, when you finally catch up to it, you realize just what it has done and that you have no recollection of all things thing you’ve let pass you by. What a sneaky thing it is, time. Then, there are other days when the loneliness weighs down heavily on your shoulders, and you wish that time would hurry up and skip ahead, so you could finally be out of that feeling, but time has its own mind, and of course it doesn’t listen. Such a sneaky thing. I’m sure you know just what I mean, especially now.

I realized the darkness had set in, now that I was awake, the sun completely hidden by the moon. There was nothing to focus on, nothing to distract me, and suddenly the darkness seemed thick and dense and endless, and I was scared of being alone there, by the lake.

I have been coming to the lake for so long; I could probably run through those woods with my eyes closed. I sprinted, just staring at the darkness as I ran into it, as if I could break through it, if I ran fast enough. The low, thin branches clawed at my face, but I pushed them away, and kept running. I could hear myself breathing loudly and inconsistently, and I tried to steady my breathing with the sounds of my footsteps, but I was running so quickly, so mindlessly, that my feet slapped the ground heavily at random, sporadic intervals, no pattern or consistency. I could feel my throat starting to burn, as if it was trying to stretch open, to let the oxygen enter my body. The muscles in my legs began to ache as well, and feeling it, I pushed harder, trying to outrun it, endure it for a little time as possible, knowing that I could do nothing but let it pass.

Oh, no. I have done it again. I’m writing too much, aren’t I? I’m sorry, love, but who is there to talk to now that you are away? You must be bored out of your mind reading all of these silly letters, endless tails of a girl’s boring, lonely days. Maybe you find some comfort in them, perhaps? Same old me, I guess, rambling on for days about small matters. I know you are laughing at me for this, aren’t you? But you can’t really blame me, can you? Nothing seems so insignificant anymore, now that I realize how much I have to lose; I want to write down everything that happens, so you’ll miss nothing when you come back.

Please hurry,

Me

Little One

To a beautiful, precious, unborn child, from the bottom of my heart,

We will not meet for many more years, but I feel as though you are already part of my soul. I think about you often and pray for you everyday, in hopes that you may have a wonderful, blessed life.

When I see children playing outside, or hear a baby crying during Sunday mass, I wonder what you will look like, what you will like to do, what your voice will sound like, what your name will be, and I think about how incredibly excited I am to meet you, little one. I do not know you yet, but I know that you are mine and that you are waiting to come to me.

I hope that you always know that you are loved… by me, by your family, and most of all, by your creator. I hope you will grow to know God’s love and to feel Him in everything you do. I hope your faith will always give you everything you need.

I hope that you will be happy. I hope that waking up every morning will excite and thrill you, thinking of the wonderful things to come in your life- and there will be many.

I hope that you will learn. I hope that you will have an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and will use your intelligent, wonderful mind as much as you possibly can.

And I hope that, like every child should be, you will be silly! I hope that you will run through the sprinklers on hot summer days. I hope that you will catch snowflakes on your tongue during the winter. I hope that you will laugh until you cry more often that not. I hope that you play in the mud and cover yourself in the icky, brown gunk that is every child’s dream after a long springtime rain. I hope that you will jump in puddles, climb trees, learn to swim and ride a bike. I hope that you have bubble-gum blowing contests. I hope that you will get to eat a hot, gooey chocolate chip cookie, right from the oven. I hope that you will feel a puppy dog’s kiss and hear a kitten’s purr. I hope that you tell silly stories and dress up in funny clothes, put on puppet shows in the living room and play make believe. I hope that your imagination runs wild, baby child. Don’t ever stop dreaming. I hope that you will feel the scratchy whiskers on your grandpa’s face as he tickles you with them when he kisses you. I hope you will know the soft, warm feel of your grandma’s magic hugs. They can cure anything. I hope that you will meet and know and love the many people who have shaped me into the person I have become.

I hope that you will be passionate. Find that thing you love to do, whether you are good at it or not, and never stop doing it. Be passionate about life. Try as many things as you can. Never have regrets.

Please, little one, know how much you are wanted in this world. You are God’s precious gift, His child. Never doubt your purpose or your significance. Know that I love you and will always love you and love you now, while you are still in Heaven, waiting. Know that when I am angry or disappointed, that you are still a wonderful human being and that I only want what’s best for you. Know that I am human too and make mistakes, but that I will try to always do what is best for you. Be true to yourself and always do what is good and what makes you happy. The best thing you can ever be is yourself, just the way you are.

My love, my life, sweet baby mine, welcome to the world.

Mommy

Anne's graduation letter

Anne,

Do you remember the first time that we met? We always attribute our trio coming together to the day when I was stung by the bee, but I know that we had all seen each other before then. I guess, we must have been about five, and it must have been in the neighborhood at some event or another, but I can't remember specifically the day the two of you entered my life. It's like you were always there.

Anne, you and I did not start off so well. I was extremely shy and quiet. You were extremely confident and loud. I told my mom that I couldn't play with you, because you talked too much, and you were too bossy. Honestly, you terrified me. It's funny to think of that, though, now, because so much of who I am indirectly comes from you. I listen to myself talking sometimes, and I can see you in so much of what I say the gestures I make. "I mean, basically..."

Sarah and I had our fall-outs too, if you remember. For several years, Sarah and I endured a very tense love/hate relationship, because both of us wanted to be your best friend... as if there was no greater accomplishment than to be your number one.

Eventually, our personalities balanced out as some of your weirdness rubbed off onto me, and Sarah and I learned how to share a best friend. The three of us were inseparable. My family began to casually refer to us as the Purple Raindrops, and we became slightly less popular with the neighbors for invading their personal space with our pond-clean-up club; however, I am sure that they were very fond of the sticks we sold to them- at very reasonable prices, I might add.

Without each other, we may have never discovered some of our more creative abilities, such as song-writing, play-writing, singing, dancing, and acting. Seriously... do you think you would be a nursing major, if not for our bug-rescue program? How could I have discovered my passion for writing, without the incredible novels, such as Lost and Found? Sarah could have never gotten into VCU arts, if we hadn't gotten practice from selling our masterpieces to the nice ladies driving by our house. And how about our incredibly normal and not awkward social skills? How would we have ever learned to accept diversity without being abused slaves in colonial times? Don't forget being psychiatrist during Barbie soap-opera hour, socializing with elves and fairies, and practicing our language skills with the very useful dictionary we made up ourselves? We could have never made it!

To be honest, I really don't think we could have. Who else could stay up for hours on the phone with me, while I cried about a boy? Who else would come to Sarah's house, when she had the chicken pox, to put on a puppet show? Who else would pass an apple back and forth among three people, sharing spit and germs and who knows what else, just because it was something to do together?

It's been different, though, in the last few years. High school came, and there were parties, dances, and dating... other things to do and other people to do them with. I had to learn to let you go a little, to let you start to go your own way. I went from being your "number one" to "one of many," and it was hard... but not as hard as it is now, as you prepare for college.

I know how much it would hurt to part with someone so close to me, but I didn't know how to handle it. You may not have realized it yet, but we both dealt with it in the same way. During this last year, our encounters became scattered, planned, less intimate and fun than they had been. We didn't spend hours on the phone anymore, and we didn't rush to tell each other every detail of our days, like we used to. Subconsciously, we both knew that it was much easier to leave your best friend, if you didn't have one... so that's what we made happen.

The connection that two, or three, people form over a lifetime is not something that can be replaced, nor is it something that can ever fade away completely. There is no one in the world who knows me quite like you do, and no one ever will. It is impossible to let someone go when they mean as much as you do to me.

After all these many, many years, you are still my best friend, and I know, now, that you will continue to be, but it is time for me to let you go and move on with your life. This time, though, it doesn't feel so bad. I know you so well, and I believe in you so much. I am lucky to have been able to watch you grow from the silly, quirky little girl you were then, to the beautiful, intelligent, sophisticated woman that you are now. You were meant for great things, Anne. I have always known that, and I am so excited to see what you will do with the many, many gifts God has blessed you with. There is no doubt in my mind that, whatever path you chose to take, will be fantastic!

Annie, our lives are turning out a little differently than we had planned. I don't think we are moving to Africa. I have no desire to move into Sarah's garage with the homeless men off of Forest Hill, and I'd rather not have a one-night-stand with a delivery boy. It doesn't look like we'll marry brothers or have a triple wedding. Our kids probably won't be the same ages; it may be a little weird if they all marry each other, and I hope to God that we don't become the crazy old ladies who make bird calls and wind up in other people's yards. We're still not famous; I doubt you'll have twenty kids, and living 200 + years is going to be tricky... but hey, with the three of us, anything is possible.

One thing is for certain, though... best friends forever.

I love you... Happy Moving Day

Mary Christine Searls 8/27/09