It has been a year.
It has been a year, but it has been longer than that.
It has been a year, but it feels like three months ago I was dragging the dogs down to southern California because I could not remain in San Francisco another weekend.
I am in Argentina. I have been surrounded by strangers, and not only that, I have been surrounded by strangers that speak another language. I want to talk about you, and last year, and Lindsay, but even if I was comfortable enough with one of my new friends, I would struggle to translate my words. And really, I have a hard time dealing with artificial empathy, even if there is lurking sincerity.
But Vanessa listens. And I will call Lindsay long distance. And I will pray.
And I will smile when I think about your daughter, and what you would say about her crazy adventures over the last year. And I will think about your laugh and your overwhelming love for your family. Your open love.
And I will be thankful.
I have been seeing a lot of rainbows in this country, more in my two months here than I probably saw in an entire year in San Francisco.
A Letter on February 28th