There's something sensual about a hand-written letter! A letter does not have the electronic feel of an email or the transitory nature of a texted message. A letter is even more personal than a disembodied voice coming from a cell phone. So you can imagine my excitement when I received a letter from Punkus. It was an excitement tinged with fear--for when Punkus and I parted over ten years ago, it was not on the best of terms, as you know. (She had accused me, rightly, of being unfaithful.) My fingers shook as I opened the envelope. Inside, folded twice, was a single, perfumed page impressed with green ink upon a pink unlined sheet--typically Punkus! (Her art background led her to use an old-fashioned, wooden pen with a gold nib that she dipped into a glass inkwell when she wrote using fanciful script characters!) "What could she have written?" I wondered. What was inside could be either hopeful or damaging! I cleared a space on my desk (I had been reading Gladwell's OUTLIERS) and placed the envelope and letter in front of me. I first examined the envelope for clues. It was stark white--not the pastel color a younger, more romantic Punkus would have chosen. Not a good sign! My name, delicately written in a familiar hand, sent shivers through me! It was as though Punkus was reaching out to stroke my face! I opened the letter and began reading, with difficulty at first for my eyes were tearing, but then with more focus as I began making sense of her words. This is what I read: "Shortly after leaving Orlando, I was in an horrific auto accident in Ogden, Utah. I was in a coma for six months while doctors worked to patch my broken body. When I awoke, all past memory of my life had been erased. For ten years, my mother and brother cared for me at our family home in Killeen, Texas. Gradually, the fog surrounding my pre-accident life cleared. Because you were once such an important stabilizing influence in my life, I decided to reach out to you--as the one person who would not judge me for the emotionally and physically damaged person I am today. As you may imagine, I've had considerable cosmetic reconstruction done--especially on my face--and, though inside I'm your same Punkus, I'm not the cute woman you fell so much in love with. I'll understand if you don't respond, but here is my address...." I reached for my pen and began scribbling! [TO BE CONTINUED]
