I haven’t written in a while. I suppose that’s because I talk to you every day, muttering from behind my desk, like a crazy person. That’s okay. We’ve always been good with crazy. Better with it actually. What is normal anyway?
Yes, I can still see her from my office door. She is every bit the bright, shiny, sprite of a daughter you raised her to be, with a side of twisted mirth. You would be so proud of her. I know I am.
I’m still plugging away at getting the book published. It’s a slow process, with a giant learning curve, but I made a good trek down the path this past year. I even managed to swing a short story contract for 2018. So that’s exciting!
Most of all, I’ve made friends—honest, witty, true-hearted friends—and you would adore them. They give the kind of support you always did, encouragement laced with truth. God must have known it would take a gaggle of women to try and replace our fifteen years together, but he did it. And I’m so thankful.
The most interesting thing I discovered in 2017? Well, that would be . . . me. That little part of me I used to keep hidden? The one only you and a few others could reach? She’s emerged in full. The last and final lesson you taught me—that life is short—has taken hold. I can’t be any less than all of me anymore.
And, yes, I know you would be proud.
I know I am.