There is a letter coming my way now any day. The purple marker squiggles across the ten double sided pages will be familiar. I know the girl who wrote those words and have a faint recollection of the thoughtfully written advice she administered across those bright white pages a year ago. I often wonder what that girl would say if she knew what I've done (and not done) this year. Will she be disappointed? Happy? Glad? Worried? Anxious? Encouraging? Loving? Is she going to kick my ass for being grumpy, lazy, and sad for the first part of my return? I can hear her now faintly whispering in the back of my mind. As each day gets closer and closer to her words arriving in my mail box, I get more and more anxious. I have a feeling she's going to be mad at me. I have a feeling she's going to make me cry. But I also know she's going to forgive me and offer some much needed inspiration. After all, it's her expectations with which I've had difficulty dealing.
Her twelve months of patiently sitting on a shelf are coming to a close.
I also wonder about the messenger as it quite possibly could be hand delivered by a kindred soul I no doubt would want to hug.
Regardless of the delivery method of my air mail, I know it's coming. I can hear it.