Room to Breathe

My Love,

It seems the busier I get, the more I tend to stop writing. I guess when I put so many other things ahead of quiet and rest, I let all the thoughts I'm going to write down pile up in a corner gathering dust. When I do give myself a minute, I look at the pile and just think again, "Later...," until there's a huge stack unkempt yellowing pieces of words and unexplored thoughts untouched and haphazardly splayed. It eventually will get to me and like a mad woman I'll sort through it with such fury, wondering how I ever let it get that messy.

Sigh. Most times I think I do that because I don't like facing the fact that I'm a bit lonely for you sometimes and just wish you'd get here already.

Yours forever,

Ruth