Letters to Bear

Bear

Dear Bear,

Yes, I’ve decided to call you Bear. For what reasoning, I’m not sure, but it’s sticking…for now. I suppose it’s just easier to think of you in the context of a woods inhabitant than an actual human. If I were to think of you as a human being, I’d start to get restless. I’d start to think about where you are and what you’re doing. It’s quite a feat, to think about you. You’re floating around the world somewhere, doing everyday ordinary things, completely unaware that one day we’ll have a life together. I’ve never met your family, or seen your birthmark. I’ve never held your hand or fallen asleep on your shoulder. I’ve never nudged you in the middle of the night to get you to stop snoring. That’s all a when not a now.

Relationships take time and courage and heart. None of which I felt I had, for a very long time.

Jodi Picoult, an author that continues to torment me with her heart wrenching novels, once said, “Once you had put the pieces back together, even though you may look intact, you were never quite the same as you’d been before the fall.”

High school was a series of falls for me. I didn’t even know there were that many pieces of me to break.

I’m writing to you now to tell you that I’m finally put back together. And not only that, I’m confident in the fact that should I be broken again, I’ll be ready. I’ll be able to bounce back, no question.

So I’m just waiting. Waiting to be broken by you, or by whoever it takes for me to get to you.

Come slowly, but hurry home.

 

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