I wrote a letter to my high school sweetheart 40 years ago. Never sent it. Put it in a book. Forgot. Last month, I donated that book to a library.
I forgot the letter existed until the phone rang. Forty years can bury almost anything. Love. Anger. Grief. Even entire versions of yourself. At fifty-nine, …
I wrote a letter to my high school sweetheart 40 years ago. Never sent it. Put it in a book. Forgot. Last month, I donated that book to a library. Read More