Balboa 10.30 AM
8.15.85
laying on the sand,
in the sun.
My love,
Right this instant, right this minute, I am so
happy. If only I could freeze this moment in time, put
it away and take it out when the dark moods come over
me; when all the problems are weighing so heavily on my
shoulders; when I forget all about my blessings; when I
feel so desperate I just want to give up. If only.
It is so beautiful and peaceful here, this
little place on earth, this Balboa peninsula. It must
be one of the power spots you've talked about. This is
a place where everything smooths out. This is where I
come in the winter, holding hands with Aaron; walking
on the pier; this is where I thank God for all the
beauty, for my children, for my health, my
intelligence, my independent spirit, for all the people
who have left their mark on me, for all the people I
love; this is where I know, somehow, somewhere there is
a rainbow waiting for me.
This is where I'll come next winter to think of
you, to ease the pain, which is eating at me already.
Oh, Babe; I love you so. And it feels so good
I want be swept away by that feeling. No questions; no
pain; no projection in the future, just love you, now.
I want to look at you until my eyes can't see anymore;
hold you until I don't know which skin is mine; love
you until I can't feel anymore; I want to touch you
until I know every line, every muscle so that I could
recognize you by touch anywhere. How sweet it is to
kiss you; those sweet little kisses on your eyelids,
the corners of you mouth, your forehead and temple, and
then your mouth again, so fast you don't have time to
kiss me back; holding you in my arms like a child; my
child; my lover, my friend.
It isn't easy loving you, but somehow I am
grateful for this love; for it is making me feel so
full of life again.
Sweetie, how silly to write you this morning
when I'll see you tonight but I just can't get enough
of you.
So there.
Love,
Me
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- letter from Lise.
— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —