Letter from sycamore creek

Passing time is like a great distance traveled. The memories are fading like footsteps in the distance. I can no longer imagine the words i wrote. I can no longer feel the comfort of knowing you.

I had a dream.

We would meet again as children. Before we were broken. Before we died. The damage not undone but would never happen. The rags that wiped our tears became the garments we wore. Worn and frayed, they were our only comfort in the cold.

And when i woke, all that remained were your soft and easy words…

Tu eres el mago de mis sueños.”