Letter 76

Dear You,

Tonight, we met at one of our favorite places to eat. We celebrated Elle turning double digits. She sat by me instead of the girls, funny how special one ten year old can make you feel. We all had laughter for dinner. I cried at the table because my cup runneth over.

You three came to the house we used to all call home. Rearranged now, we rest our heads in different rooms. I made a llama cake, and you said it was my best yet. The kids danced and sang.

Elle opened her presents and you cried. You opened one of yours and you cried. I know you well.

Two of the three E’s tried to convince us to get back together. They were quite convincing, not that I needed any. They took us both upstairs, one at a time. They wrote a note for you to give to me. Wrapped inside of it was a little, plastic, and yellow gem. The note read, “Will you please get back together with me, with a cherry on top?” And they drew two cherries.

They did one hell of a job, because as your eyes filled with tears, for one brief moment, I thought you were going to say yes. I said yes, you said maybe, and they made us hug.

I had you keep that little note, and that little gem. So one day, when you’re ready, you can give it to me, and I can assure you, I will not say maybe.

Love, me