October 31, 2012

My dearest,

You know that there just might not be a tomorrow. Or even another hour. That’s what we live with. It’s the price of being alive. The uncertainty. The sense of dread.

But isn’t it fine? That we are alive now? The sun still shining, the skies so blue, the old clichés so strong and true? The sense of hope … that if there is another hour, and if there is a tomorrow, it would be as good as this, here, right now.

Yours, ever and always.