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unsent letter


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The nature of this letter may be hard to understand without some context so let me begin by offering a bit of prospective. First, I realize an unsolicited letter from a forgotten admirer may at once fulfill some adolescent fantasy and tend to be down-right creepy. Rest assured in this case I write you with warm affection as I hope to reflect only wholesome respect toward you. Secondly, I earnestly believe all women need to know every man has a very special place in his heart reserved for the girl that got away and as you read this letter I hope you will see how you have filled every corner of that space in mine for nearly 25 years. Consider the following tongue-tied words as a faint-hearted attempt at reaching out with a long overdue confession. As you read this letter please understand I write with a guarded sense of discretion as I accept the conditions which will forever keep me from saying any of this to you in person.

 

Thinking back on one of the captivating scenes from my school years I easily recall how you charmed the basketball court in some midday school game. My first memory of you is a vision of the graceful embodiment of beauty, perfect in every way from your ponytail to your canvas shoes. A simple spin-fake; elbows out, then taking the shot with uncompromising confidence. Such a pretty smile as the ball fell through the hoop then gently kissed the net. I remember how you triumphantly raised your hands above your head then gave two claps, one for each point. I knew even in my boyish ignorance that what I felt would never be undone, but I dared not say anything to you. I was simply bewildered by you.

 

In time as we became more familiar my infatuation was steadfast but all I ever confessed was our common reverence for fast cars, beautiful horses and old music. The way you dropped your chin, crinkled your nose and looked at me with your prankish grin became so familiar I can still see it today. As we casually talked about ordinary matters of adolescence I secretly felt as though an epic novel being written just for me. In a trancelike state I soaked in every nuance of your soothing, natural Appalachian accent while your effortless words fell with the rhythm of gently falling rain. Each time we shared those precious moments of conversation I looked into your eyes and I could see places beyond my imagination. Your kind and warm nature would have no doubt given me ample confidence to express my feelings so many years ago but I was silenced by shyness. Countless times we talked and all I ever wished for was the bravery to speak of my attraction to you but bravery never came. Inevitably the last year of high school came and I unsurprisingly had grown to be an awkwardly inhibited young adult. I resigned to hide behind a wall of self-consciousness, playing the role of the quiet cool one and never expressing my true feelings.

 

It’s bitter sweet thinking back on all those times I took you home from school. How utterly cool it was to see you in the shotgun-seat as we rode through the countryside, laughing at the wind, singing to the dashboard, and trying to talk louder than the obnoxiously loud engine in my old blue hot rod. I can finally admit that all I ever wanted to do was just keep going to some winding mountain road and climb to an undiscovered place. I wanted to stand on the tallest peak, take your hand and shout my feelings into the valleys and patiently wait to hear the echoes of young love. Instead I fooled myself into believing being near you would last forever and to some degree; if only in my mind, it has. Because of you and my sentimental feelings for the girl that got away I have had a tender warm-heartedness for youth and to this day that same indisputable passion adorns the guidance I give my children with a playful fondness for young love and school crushes.

 

To be honest, all throughout the long years of adulthood I have often sat quietly lost in thought and dear memories of your spirit have never been far away. As I pause to admire any one of the thousands of vivid landscapes you have left in my mind I reflect with remarkable clarity on the many facets of your internal and external beauty. With each thought of you I am like a young, dusty cowboy on a long, winding passage as he pauses to adore a flawless gift of skillfully cut jewels he keeps packed away in his coarsely made saddle bag. Sometimes I scoop these keepsakes up as if to rejoice in my prize and throw these visions of you towards the vivid midday sun. Suspended in the Monet skies of my youth, these perfect gems express my most treasured memories of your brilliant light and majestic splendor. As the sunlight plays on every character of each stone; sapphire, emerald, ruby, amethyst and aquamarine, my mind drifts between a younger man’s fondest memories and his wildest dreams while endless sunbeams spin and dance to some familiar melody. In my shameless flight of the imagination the colorful likenesses of your qualities twist and tumble weightless and unfettered by time. One by one these delicately wrought charms float back to earth and rest unharmed in the cradle of my caring hands, only to be tucked away in my heart, and certain to be cherished another day. Each time I open my satchel of memories I have this treasure of your presence but each time the winds of reality push in dark clouds and dim the blue sky of my lonesome, dreaming vision. Nevertheless what has always remained are the recollections of those playful days of youth, which I keep in the secret place where as a child I dreamed of cowboys, princesses and all things pure. I am even now hopelessly smitten.

 

When I do still dare to dream, I dream that I am that strong, lean cowboy of my youth who would lay down his life for one gasp of air on a homestead where you were my equal and my life’s work would be to shower you with the riches of faithful and honorable years. Instead, I offer you this timid letter and fain an attempt at good manners. I know that if I am to be as honorable as I contend that I am, I would once again subdue my passions and ignore this reckless desire to make my feelings toward you known. My only defense is that if you were to go on with your life without the reality of knowing someone thought of you as adoringly as I do, it would be me to blame once again for withholding the one little thing that I am able to give…Which is this simple confession of my ongoing and unconditional enchantment with the warmest most charming soul I have ever known.

 

You should also know that although my intentions for writing this letter are pure; you should not be misled, I am certainly no Angel. Once in a great while over the long years I am lucky enough hear something about you through mutual friends and yes, in truth I get giddy every time we happen to cross paths. I always get caught looking at you and once again find myself overcome by your genuine sincerity and I marvel at how well it combines with your unwavering faith. Such are the traits that good men find irresistible in an already gorgeous woman such as you. I do not even attempt to hide the fact that I still find you today; just as I always have, absolutely ravishing. Your uncompromising beauty reminds me of a classic melody the way each note of each instrument brings your bright smile, your warm eyes and your elegant body into a perfect harmony. I cannot even think of you without an eager smile.

 

As we have encountered each other through recent years I am each time allured by your effortless appeal and your unguarded kindness. During these encounters I must confess that at times, my more base instincts have ushered my thoughts into the expansive realms of desire. I can feel my pulse quicken and I draw a soundless breath as these thoughts crush over me. In those moments of passion induced intoxication reality is as insignificant as a single maple leaf adorned in the reddish- orange hue of autumn just as it loses its last grip on a harsh existence and flutters aimlessly away in the final warm breeze to wither and perish forever. Even though my passions may betray some evidence of my own weakness in virtue you should feel no guilt or shame because of them, for they are a simple testament to your beauty.

 

I must confess that even today, in my advanced years and battered state, I sit down to write these words and I am grateful to steal away this moment to visit that secret chamber of my heart where my memory of the girl that got away resides. Looking back, over life’s rugged journey, I look for the vision of you smiling back at me through the thin veil of time. I have walked many long years of life and I have often forced myself to look away as my soul’s own reflection seems to worsen with the passing decades. In my discontented moral wasteland these cherished memories of you are like a pristine mountain brook awakened by the first warmth of spring, melting the coldness of my forgotten compassion and cascading free running water over the jagged rocks of the path I have chosen. In the torrent of my precious memories the deluge of your kindnesses smoothes the rough edges of my hardened heart and sculpts a gentle, rolling passageway so that I may walk and my heel be not bruised. Your presence in this place rings out in a tone of such clarity and resonance that I often recall a beckoning into the warm hearth of a familiar and pleasant fire where I once heard the soft words of an affectionate friend.

 

With all these thought rambling through my head I have taken the greatest of liberties in searching every corner of my character but can find no moral contingency for a heart torn between duty and happiness and no honest justification for any selfish action. Having come so far I know I must submit to the service of my decisions for so long as I am able to do more good than harm. Please know, if I could ever have another chance at youth I would not be stupidly shy and I would find a way to win your love. I would live every day with undiminished passion and my story would be about all the times we walked in the moonlight, held each other through the storms and rejoiced in ever abiding joy.

 

So, with concealed excitement, I will wait to stumble upon your next inspired words or with luck catch a glimpse of you in passing and be reassured with the knowledge that a woman as lovely as you truly exists beyond my most dear thoughts. If you wish to think of me at all I hope you will hear me in the melancholy strings of the guitar player in some forgotten band, or perhaps catch a sensation of me as the thoroughbreds round the last turn at The Churchill Downs. Hopefully, if these thoughts do come to your mind, from this moment on you will hold true that my desires are as close as the little drops of rain that quietly form puddle just to be near you.

 

With unmatched fondness I will think of the girl that got away time and time again as I visit you in my fantasy of youthful innocence and slip into a daydream …someplace where cowboys drive fast cars and princesses wear canvas shoes… With you alone, I share the secret of my blissful smile.

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