For a brief moment in time, I had forgotten anyone cared about me at all. The beat of my heart in my own chest sounded unfamiliar. I couldn’t recognize my eyes in the mirror no matter how hard I stared. This brief moment was brief only in the span of our vast universe. In actuality, it lasted years, with only intervals of relief. I lived like a mammal confined to rough seas, breaking the surface tension for a gulp of air, only to return to swimming through darkness.

One pure bit of love, one reminder from someone that you matter, it can shift everything back into place. That’s all it took for me to come back.

I found your letter in a drawer, wrinkled with touch and time. I read it over and over, letting the words resuscitate me. I accepted the gift, feeling a swirl and mix of feelings inside me. It was a shock. It was as though I’d been staring at my own reflection in a spoon too long, the face upside down, distorted. Love had been whistling around me all this time, at a frequency I just couldn’t hear. And all the while my bowl had stood empty, the air I was breathing was thin and stale, there was no music in the wind. And then, I found your letter. A little sugar in my bowl, it coated the spoon too, and so it was that the spoon was put to rest. And just like that I can once again take in the world around me. The way it once took me in. The way it breathes life into me so I can breathe it right back. Thank you for loving me.