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Blogs > rsbrandt44 > They Call Me...The Professor |
My Baby, He Wrote Me A Letter
My Baby, He Wrote Me A Letter The wee hours of Thursday morning found me sitting in a Waffle House across from a woman half my age, probably not for the first nor the last time. But of more significance is the tale of my friend A., I met through a mutual acquaintance back in...May? We seemed to it off like a house on fire, but then she dropped entirely of sight after our first meeting. I spent a month searching vainly for her. Not to be too stalker-y, but I asked Verizon for a for her in Spanish Fort, where she said her house was, and although the had been suspended (just as she said), they did provided me with a mailing . I sent her a card apologizing for being all stalker-y and all that but explaining that, well, I missed her, and her beautiful face and her upside-down cases, and, well, I just plain missed her. After a month she finally turned up again, and we became fast friends. But today, we happened to be driving along with one of her friends around the corner from my home, so I suggested that we swing by my house so I could check my , among other things. To my astonishment, there in the mailbox was the very first of many cards that I had written for her, postmarked July 18, and returned as undeliverable. The heck you say. I handed it to her myself. "I still feel exactly the way," I told her. "Write it on your heart that every day is the best day of the year." - Ralph Waldo Emerson |
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