I'm ready to read those old love letters now

(or am I?)

Y’all. A can of worms ain’t got nothing on this box of cards and letters from June 1996 to December 1997.

I just counted them. 165. Half(ish) written by me, half(ish) written by my boyfriend/fiancé/now-ex-husband.

We wrote letters to each other when we worked at the same camp for two summers (but weren’t technically supposed to be dating), when we were away at different colleges, and when I went to Okinawa as a student teacher for 3 months.

I’ve been trying to write about my divorce for a long time, then realized I needed to back up to the beginning of my marriage. Then just yesterday it dawned on me that I could go back even further if I was willing to pull this box down off the shelf in my closet and open it.

Holy shit.

As I read old words and write new ones, I’m going to share some of it here on substack. But I have some raw and messy thoughts I’m going to put behind the paywall because, brave as I like to think I am, I’m not ready to be all the way brave yet.