Throughout the year, as I came in from a long afternoon of work chores, and walked to my mailbox, my heart would skip a beat when I saw I had a letter. Who was it from? What’s it about? Who loves me enough to spend time writing? I’d take the letter with my name on it, and rip open the envelope like a ravenous scavenger into a carcass. Every single scrawl, whether on fancy stationary or a napkin meant the world to me.
News from home, and news of my friends’ lives, who aren’t at home (Toni in California), was like a cold drink on a hot day. It allowed me to remain focused on what I truly want.
Although I loved every letter, I’m afraid I wasn’t as good at writing as everyone else was. In fact, for a vast majority of this year I only whined and moaned. Thanks for putting up with that, and writing back with encouraging thoughts.
Thank you so much for keeping me in the loop these last eight months. Thanks for the numerous letters that have consistently arrived, and that I hope will continue to arrive until I leave here. I want to give special thanks to my Mom, whose love and support, allowed me to make as much progress this year as I have. I love and miss you all, and again, thank you for making me a priority.