Dear Friend,
Some people pass through your life so quickly. It's a little sad, but how can you regret it? Joy is joy; no matter that it is followed by sorrow.
There are no sorrows between us, anyway. Just distance and lives that could not overcome it.
Still, you were a gift. This letter--of all the letters I've been writing--I wish it can make it to your hand. I want you to know that though we didn't get a chance to dig deeper into each other, that I consider you a wonderful gift. A young, intelligent woman, quiet and unassuming, but strong and passionate and driven. Maybe in another universe, I'd have been more like you. (Alas. Alas. It is not to be so.)
The world offers us a bounty of beauty and you are the kind of person on whom nothing is lost. Even though we haven't seen each other in years, even though I haven't written or received a letter from you, I still think about you. I think about the work you are doing, the difference you are making. It gives me hope.
In my heart I can be selfish and small. But even though I admire you and envy you your talents and ambition, there is no accompanying bitterness. I really do wish you well.
I wish you a lifetime of joy. I wish you small seashells and sun-filled days. I wish you poetry, and soaring prose. I wish you cotton dresses and bare feet on the grass. I wish you glittering pebbles in the soft flesh of your hand.
And I wish you would think of me too, and be glad.
Yours,
Mayumi
Some people pass through your life so quickly. It's a little sad, but how can you regret it? Joy is joy; no matter that it is followed by sorrow.
There are no sorrows between us, anyway. Just distance and lives that could not overcome it.
Still, you were a gift. This letter--of all the letters I've been writing--I wish it can make it to your hand. I want you to know that though we didn't get a chance to dig deeper into each other, that I consider you a wonderful gift. A young, intelligent woman, quiet and unassuming, but strong and passionate and driven. Maybe in another universe, I'd have been more like you. (Alas. Alas. It is not to be so.)
The world offers us a bounty of beauty and you are the kind of person on whom nothing is lost. Even though we haven't seen each other in years, even though I haven't written or received a letter from you, I still think about you. I think about the work you are doing, the difference you are making. It gives me hope.
In my heart I can be selfish and small. But even though I admire you and envy you your talents and ambition, there is no accompanying bitterness. I really do wish you well.
I wish you a lifetime of joy. I wish you small seashells and sun-filled days. I wish you poetry, and soaring prose. I wish you cotton dresses and bare feet on the grass. I wish you glittering pebbles in the soft flesh of your hand.
And I wish you would think of me too, and be glad.
Yours,
Mayumi
