A Journey Into the Heart of Thanksgiving

She wrote him, wishing him a Happy Thanksgiving, telling him how grateful she was that he was in her life. That he was always there for her. She felt bad about everything and hoped he could forgive her. She asked him to think about it.

She signed the letter,

"Love Always"

There was nothing for him to think about. Nothing to forgive. She was who she was, not what he wanted her to be. He had to accept that. But yes, he was going to be there for her, always.

There was a lot for him to say, but he felt he'd be wasting his time. He didn't think she'd ever let him reach her. Not really, at least. He knew she didn't like people. Didn't trust them. He tried so hard to prove he could be trusted. That he would never let her down. He would always be on her side, blah blah blah. Nothing he ever did seemed to get him anywhere with her. He knew he never really mattered that much to her and that he could never compete with the derelicts of the world that she was always more interested in spending time with than him, even though none of them really cared about her, only about getting her drunk and taking advantage of her.

She complained about her love life, he knew, she couldn't get close to anyone who really cared about her. She only wasted her time with the others, the ones who would come and go like a revolving door. Inside she probably knew she couldn't trust them, and it was all about trust, wasn't it? Beliveing in someone so much that you are not afraid to open yourself up. To be vulnerable, because you know they will never hurt you. His ex had the same problem. The same intimacy issues, and the same medical condition that she did. He wanted badly to belive her, to be with her, but she made it too difficult.

He witnessed her lies. He witnessed her decieve and keep these secrets from the people that really mattered, the people who really cared, and usually whoever the boyfriend-of-the-month was, but especially to him, and that hurt him.

She said she wanted to see him? She'd had an open invitation, on more than one occasion, since they first met. He gave her a key to his house for Christ's sake. He had never done that before, not for anyone. He could list dozens of times she said she watned to see him. He would make plans he thought would be special to her, only to be stood up time after time. He would, and did, drop all previous plans to be with her, but she very seldom made any time for him.

He felt he only had one chance to go around in life, and he felt bad for himself knowing he'd never care for anyone the way he cared for her. He felt bad for her as well, knowing there was no one who would ever care for her the way he did. No one would ever understand her like he did.

He told her she couldn't just brush away her actions after all these years by merely dropping in once in a blue. He told her, if she wanted to even be friends, then she must be a friend to him.

She wanted him to trust her? To belive in her? To be trustworthy, he told her she must resist the need to lie to him.

She said she was grateful he was in her life? He wanted her to prove it. He needed to see it. He told her what he missed the most. When she would tell him stories of when she was a little girl. He loved that. He wanted to hear more stories. He remembered it all.

He missed playing with her hair. He missed watching her sleep.

She may have been the most restless sleeper he'd ever seen.

He left it at that, but not without a post-script.

"P.S. Who takes care of the puppies over the holidays?"