Chapter Text
April 1, 2013
Dearest, Loveliest Elizabeth,
In writing I feel a formal salutation is required. I permit you to tease me all you wish for writing you a letter 'in cursive' that is 'wax sealed.' To add to your ammunition stockpile, I shall also admit that I'm writing this with my grandfather's fountain pen in India ink. (It's waterproof, which, as a great reader of Classic novels, you may already know.)
At one minute past nine this morning I checked your youtube channel, even though I knew there wouldn't be a new video. It's become a habit of many months to check and see if there is a new bit of you posted for me. Your videos were created for a very large audience, but I selfishly pretended that they were for me alone. (On the few occasions that you did speak directly to me, I felt what I imagine one feels when jamming a fork into a live electrical outlet.)
Lizzie, I missed you this morning in a new and unexpected way. Since I left you at the airport, I've missed your face, your hands, your scent, your voice, and the way you tap your feet when you're waiting your turn to speak. I didn't expect to miss your videos so keenly. Have you ever listened to the dial tone after someone has hung up on you, rather than sever the connection entirely? Refreshing your youtube page hopelessly is my version of that.
I could call you right now. I could email. I could check Skype. But those all feel like the wrong modes of communication for what I want to say. For so many months we've been having these odd one-sided conversations in which you tell me stories in your expressive and delightful manner. I've watched and listened, but couldn't respond for so many reasons. Now that I may freely respond, the videos are done.
As we've seen video blogging doesn't come at all naturally to me, so I thought I'd better write. It's old fashioned and a little staid, which you'd likely say is rather like me. It's not at all like you, Lizzie. Perhaps opposites really do attract, but on some level I still can't fathom why you return my affection. It seemed impossible for so long. Unthinking that idea may take some time. Don't mistake me. I do believe you when you say that you care for me. I can see it in the tilt of your mouth and the way you bend towards me now rather than away.
Are you familiar with the Greek myth of Clytie? She was a nymph in love with Apollo, who ignored her. She sat and watched him travel across the sky everyday. She became so transfixed that she didn't eat or drink anything for nine days. She rooted into the ground and became a sunflower, her face tracking the sun as it travels.
I know you misunderstood (I have to wonder if it wasn't a bit willful on your part) why I used to watch you so intently, but Lizzie, you were my sun. You still are. Is it too much to say that I strongly suspect you always will be?
I'm not sure I'll ever be able to express the brilliance and warmth you've brought into my life. Please accept these feeble words and know that I feel more for you than I can possibly say.
All my love,
W.D.