Hi, what are you doing? 

I’ve been mostly watching the ocean, counting the messengers of light that descend through the clouds, thinking about time, how there’s never enough of it when you love someone, how there’s too much of it when someone doesn’t love you back, and the thing about the ocean is that it doesn’t care about me or any of this, and I find that comforting. What are you doing?

Just saw the most amazing sunset and wish you were here to watch it with me.

That’s pretty strange, considering it’s 1:25 in the afternoon, but maybe your LA area code has traveled with you to somewhere the sun just set, somewhere the sky has blushed into a dozen shades of orange, somewhere that reminded you of me across all that distance. I’m always longing to be missed.

Is this you?

I suppose it is, but not the same me from this time last year. I feel more like a tree that’s dropped all its leaves, branches mostly unchanged, new growth just beginning to flush. I was struck by lightning during a late-winter storm, but it didn’t kill me. There are more squirrels than last year. I try to remain inviting.

My friend tells me you have a pet dog for sale. Can I see a picture of it?

She wasn’t my dog, though I loved her like my own. I miss taking her to the beach, the way she’d pick up the heaviest stick by one end, never in the middle, off-balance weight dragging her head sideways, how proud she was to drop it at my feet, how I would throw it over and over, my shoulder burning. I haven’t seen her in over a year, but I think about that dog every day. And, no, she’s not for sale, asshole. Don’t text me again.

Hey

Oh. Wow. I didn’t expect to hear from you after all this time, after you swore we’d never become strangers. All this time, and I’m still finding you in my dreams, in my playlists, in the way I reach for my phone when good things happen. When bad things happen. I stopped expecting you to call or write, but I’ll never understand how you didn’t. It’s not like you to send a single-word text. But maybe that’s who you are now. Maybe we’re both different in too many ways to count. Anyway. I haven’t decided if it’s nice to hear from you again.