Dear,

I have a story for you…

“Cindy, Cindy, please open your eyes!” Her mother had begged.  Cindy had been in a coma for six months.  There was no hope, yet every Sunday the mother came to her daughter’s side to try and awaken her.

Let me take a few minutes to stop right here.  I am looking out my dorm window. I am looking onto the practice football field.  I am watching some girl through my window.  She is running up and down the bleachers.  She doesn’t even know that I am watching her.  There is no way she can see me through the window.  She thinks she is all alone but she is not. She is sharing the moment with me. Do you think she can feel me? Does she feel less lonely? I wonder what she is thinking?  Shoot, I think she is leaving.  Yes, she just left but the poor thing. I will never forget her.  Do you think she will come back because she feels a kindred spirit?  Will she choose to run at this time hoping to feel the solditarity she felt today?

Sorry, back to the story.

“It is no use,” the mother thought sadly.  As the mother reached the door to leave Cindy screamed “Thomas”.  It was only one word but the pain felt by the mother was so strong she wept for sadness even though she was so glad to hear her daughter’s voice.  And then the mother became frightened. Could this Thomas, would this Thomas, drag her back under her deep sleep?

I don’t want to write anymore.  I have a headache.  I am hungry and the girl and my will to write are gone.  Should I

Another Sunday apart wish we were together,

 

October 8, 1989

P.S. The bleachers have been torn down!  I noticed as I walked home home from school today.I don’t know the exact moment they did so as I don’t usually walk this way.  So sad…

 

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