2005-03-09 || 10:37 a.m.

|| a stamp on the best of intentions ||

last night i wrote a letter to my boyfriend's mother. i love his mother. i have written her notes over the years while not her son's girlfriend, just "hello how are you i was in the neighborhood xoxo" notes on the back of a flyer from the record store next to her salon and shoved under the front door, but this one felt odd and heavy no matter how light i tried to keep it. my handwriting kept getting bloated and full, like the ovals and ellipses of the vowels were full of seawater, and i would try to alleviate the pressure with sharp exclamation points and parenthetical asides.
dear boyfriend's mother, i am moving to another state to be with your son. i am looking forward to standing in our kitchen while he makes salad. and getting that silly contentment when pulling our underwear out of the dryer. and riding on the back of the vespa from the grocery store like old times, a bag in each hand so that i can't hold on, and leaning my head onto his back to close up all possible space.
it's hard to not make promises and forecasts in letters like that. and while i have never felt so resolute in any decision i've ever made before, (even when considering my moving away from beloved california and ten years' cultivation of the most wonderful people for friends, leaving my domestic partner and seven-hour car-ride to my parents', my track record for never living more than five miles from the pacific ocean (or bay, i guess.),) i am trying to keep it neat, keep it calm, the exes and ohs in even lines at the bottom of the paper like this is any other letter, not some kind of artifact to be kept for future documentation.

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