Dear S -

How can I tell you how much you mean to me? Especially when, as you know, saying such things out loud comes very hard to me.

I have always been better at writing than talking. Perhaps it is because I actually can think carefully before simply blurting out things, and so I feel much more confident on paper. Blurting is simply not my style.

So then, on this Nth birthday of yours, I want you to know how much I enjoy being in your presence. You have several guises, or personae, and I enjoy being with them all - even if they are simply sitting quietly. Or sleeping soundly (very soundly). Or rarely, in an agitated state because of something I have done (or failed to do).

I love the fact that we both jump to the same lines from songs, and one or two hummed notes will have us both laughing. Sometimes it's simply a look from the corner of an eye, and we both just know, and can jump off from there onto a seemingly disconnected subject.

I know you dreaded my going off to Colombia, and I know how much you dread any of my trips. I have to say that it is somewhat of a relief for me not to have to think about those possibilities any more, because it hurt me to know that these things caused you anguish. I know you do not like being alone, and I try to be with you as much as I can.

And as long as I can, too. I promise to take better care of my health, and look forward to riding on our ferrari-bikes, and our racing kayaks.

I love you, and wish you many more N birthdays.

Paul