When I read the first of Essin' Em's 30 Days Of Letters (Done before her by other bloggers whom I keep intending to read in length), I was intrigued. And now I'm giving it a go myself.
Dear Son Of One Of My Dad’s Friends,
I seem to remember you guys were ostensibly there to talk moving shit with my dad. I wouldn’t have even met you, but I’d come down with the most wretched cold I’d had at that point since my first bout with pneumonia. I’d been cooped up, with a sore throat and a bad cough, packing boxes like it was going out of style because taking a break wasn’t an option.
Until our dads fucked off and left us to hang out. You were pretty nice, really. I don’t know how old you were, but I was an awkward fourteen year old who felt wretched and was terminally shy at the best of times.
You gave me halls and made me laugh. Most welcome when I felt so horrible.
I wonder what you’re doing now, seven years on. I hope you’re doing well, whatever you’re up to. Thanks for keeping me sane that one day so long ago.
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