Love Letter

Dear You-Know-Who:

Perhaps you think I have been overly friendly, showing too much - how much I admire you. And, you would be right to think so!

I show so much affection
and reveal my anticipation
for a thrilling connection. . .

It is right to question how I do so with someone with whom I am not very familiar with in reality. I don't blame you for having a hard time accepting this. Why would you believe I am sincere? or that I actually can be sincere!

Let me explain.

Over the years, I have witnesses some of your unique gifts. Every one has a unique way in which they can teach people, but not everyone chooses to utilize their gift. You are a teacher, not as your official profession, but in the way you interact with people. You share this gift bravely and it makes me proud, and it makes me want to encourage you in everything you do. You may rightly ask if I stop to think critically about what you say? If I question it? Absolutely, and I have a lot of questions. But I have heard enough to know that you are tuned into yourself, your real self, when you are teaching.

Is this a love letter? It is. But it must be understood within the current context. This is not the kind of love letter Juliette would write Romeo. There are no longer socially accepted behaviors for courtship, engagement and marriage . . . that a love letter could refer to and. . . transgress! The women's movement has done a lot of good things-or rather, it is a good thing. But one great tradition it has taken away is courtship, and the ability to show interest in someone without immediate expectations of the infamous, and nebulous, "relationship."

You once asked me, as you came close and looked me in the eyes, "is there something you'd like to say to me?" and there was, though I wasn't able to say it then. Now I can. In this context, with its wonderful freedoms, I say, I am drawn to you. You are one of my tribe. Love? I don't want to speak of it because of the tendency to connect it to so many things which have nothing to do with it. But I just did. . .