I’m a mess. I shouldn’t be driving, but I need to be out.
Our song came on the radio. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry for not loving you right. You were my one chance at love and I blew it. Remember how we use to look up at the stars? We saw the strangest things in the night sky. I wish I could fly this Volkswagen into Space; escape my pain for a while.
My pain is like a black hole. Nothing can fill this void. I could stare into the deep vastness of Space. Then maybe I would understand why. I am like Space filled with emptiness and darkness.
I guess Space isn’t totally empty and dark. I know I would be in awe of the size of the moon and stars. Then I could turn around and look at Earth. In seeing Earth I would truly see the miracle life really is. I would see beauty, hope, and existence.
Sorry, so sorry, I didn’t see the light change, I was in Space.
I love you to the moon and back. I always will.
In the year 1971, my father had a heart attack, I fell in love, the US landed on the moon—twice, and I died.
You wrote me notes every day. I didn’t write you back. I never loved you the way you loved me. I see that now. You loved me like the vastness of Space. You are good. You are patient. Your laughter is a sweet melody. I don’t like seeing you sad.
I wish you could see Earth from Space. Her beauty reminds me of you. You have an inner beauty that is so rare. I wish you could see yourself the way I do.
You still write me notes. Now you read them out loud to the wind.
I wrote you back. I am not sure why. Maybe deep down I knew. I stopped by your work and placed the note in the glove box of your Volkswagen. Not sure why I put it there. Who looks in their glove box anymore?
You haven’t found the note yet. You have been a little preoccupied. You will find it someday. I know it will bring you love, hope, happiness, and a smile. My memory will always live inside you. I hate that it causes you pain. In time the sweet memories will bring you comfort. I will never leave you, my love. I love you to the moon and back.