We just met this year, and honestly, I am unimpressed.
You are an age for which I have to seriously scan my memory to recall, even though you are the current one.
You are young boys in cars who do not look your way anymore and the neon fingerless Madonna gloves of the 80s that have come back in style, but this time as a quaint novelty. You are a once tended field that has been left to be overtaken by Black-Eyed Susans that were planted that one priceless spring, but which now have spread in a careless way and aren’t as pretty as you’d expect. You are faded curtains in a summer cottage on the lake and leftover arribiata sauce – better the second day, but still not fresh.
Let’s speak again at 45 and reassess our relationship.
Today’s letter was written by Name: Angela
Written From: Nashville