12 - Stutter Stepping

    Some days are just overwhelming.  I very rarely check my own mail.
I have it delivered and picked up because I don't have enough time in
the day to get to the post office.  The important things that must go
out are handled with the utmost care.
    I occasionally wake up early enough on a Saturday (or crawl home
late enough on a Friday) to take care of my own postal duties.  One
Saturday I was lucky enough to get to the center just in time.
    I opened the sunroof and let the gentle rays caress my newly shaved
head.  My eyes hurt too much for contacts but the overlap shades worked
just fine on my glasses.  The sun moved across the revamped center of
town like a gentle wave, stutter stepping only for the occasional cloud.
    This is the typical quaint New England town everyone knows far too
much about everyone else and is always amazed that someone knows
anything about them.  Someday I hate this area.  Other times I realize it's
the place to raise kids.  They get a good education (hopefully),  you can
sleep through the night relatively carefree, you should get out for
at least ten years, and buy property (or in some cases inherit it) when
you are established.
    I opened my mailbox and quickly leafed through the bills and junk
mail deciding what would and what wouldn't get paid that month.  Tucked
between the various papers was a small letter with paper that looked
like blue satin.  The handwriting was elegant and unfamiliar but in the
return address section was neatly written the letter T.
    I crossed the walk way to my car.  I went over my mental Rolodex of
T's that have passed through my life and cross referenced that with the
women that would still write.  The numbers were staggeringly small but the
handwriting didn't match any of them.  Some days you are never prepared
for the surprises life has to offer.
    The letter was from Tina (reference The Night).  She kept my business
card.  I only know this because she returned it with the letter.
   "Hello My Beautiful Black Man,
        This is the last letter that I write from the United States.  I
        just wanted to let you know that your memory will stay with me forever.
        I think that if we had met at some other time and the situation were different
        we may have been quite a compliment to each other's lives.
        You were the perfect person at the perfect time.  I have never
        felt so alive.  I must thank you for listening and for loving.
        I don't know how to say this gently so I'll just say it ... I
        was married two weeks ago to a man who is my soul mate that I love and
        care for deeply.  By the time you receive this letter I will be back in Vietnam
        beginning my life again.  I wanted to let you know that somehow you helped
        me make this decision and you will never be forgotten.  I will remember your
        hugs and your strength.  I will never see you again but I will stay with you
        forever; only you could see the life force dancing behind my eyes and mirror it's
        joy.  Only you.
        T"
    I sat in my car for the next two hours as the sun moved across the
revamped center of town like a gentle wave, stutter stepping only for
the occasional cloud.