An open letter to Anne M.
Hi girl. This photo of you on Mount Pleasant (or whichever mountain in Kitty's neighborhood) is amazing. I cannot stop looking at it. You are one million miles away, you feel one million miles away, but you look very present and lovely despite the sidelong glance. I have thought of you one million times this week it is ludicrous. Yesterday while cooking up a storm in Erin's crepe kitchen, my mind kept drifting to you over there and I felt your presence beside me while I prepped one million ingredients and got quietly drunk on an empty stomach. You are heavily missed. Today during my first serving shift at The Albert Diner, I thought of you again when the chef slipped some insane rap into the Andrew Bird, Bon Iver and Dodos mix. Sly moves, you would have done the same thing I am sure of this. So to be frank, I am carrying you around town in thought. I wish I could pick you up infant style, toss you over my shoulder and quiet your woes and worries with a simple pat (I think I have been hanging around baby Olive and baby Alice too much), but I cannot. You are a grown woman and so there will be no tossing you over any shoulders. I just wanted to tell you that I love you and I miss you. Enjoy your extra explosion day in the land of Kitty/Falafel and then come home safe. I have been collecting lots of blankets and candles and vinyl for our long awaited evening chez moi. Come home soon. Say hi to your lover, he is a good man.
I love you a shit tonne.