Swapping Stamps and Envelopes

It was July 21st, right around 8:30pm, when you told me that we should write letters once we found ourselves apart. You suggested it shyly, like you weren’t sure whether or not I’d make fun of you. In actuality, it was exactly the sort of thing I wanted to hear. That was the one thing I looked forward to about our impending goodbye.

As that night wore on, we had doodle wars and sketched out tattoos that each of us wanted to have someday. You wrote down my address and tucked it away for safekeeping. It was your paper and my pens. An early collaboration that’s still as fresh in my mind as ever.

Now it’s been five weeks since I left our maze of county roads behind to head back to my college campus and manicured asphalt. I miss you. I miss the simplicity and the quiet of that night. Back then, we were still so new to one another. We’d only been out twice before and still hadn’t even mustered up the courage to hold hands. We laughed so much. We communicated so openly. That was the night when I showed you the realest side of me, and you didn’t flinch.

It seems like ages ago. Now we struggle to keep up when we’re apart. Our conversations are dull, and I miss your voice more than I can explain. And there hasn’t been a single letter come in the mail. I’m almost afraid to ask why.

I feel as though swapping stamps and envelopes might help us, if you’re still wanting to give it a shot. Our ink made us some fine memories back in July, so I’m willing to bet it could happen again. I’d love to see my name in the mailbox, so genuine in your messy scrawl. I don’t even need for you to write me mushy, lovey things. I just need for us to communicate like we did. I need for you talk to me. I need to keep learning about you. I need to let you know how much I care, and how in love with you I am.

July 21st. It’s been two months and a few odd days since that night at the park. I could have told you then, but it was too soon; I wanted to be more certain. Now I’ve never been more sure of something, but the silence leaves me scared to say so. We need another night like that, you know. We can’t let ourselves shrink in the distance between us.


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