Friday, March 7, 2014

A Fresh Letter to "The One"

Hi RIDK (Reader I Don't Know),

I haven't written for more than a year, but I do care. After all I still imagine, I still want to believe that you're the one I'm going to run into some day and we're both going to be astonished that after years of a few fine friendships and yearning, we've both finally found someone, perhaps the one and only one, who is willing to reciprocate, to give and take, to find and be found, to be loved and to love.

Where and when do you think this meeting will occur? Tomorrow at the grocery store? Next week when we both get on the bus? Next month on one of those perfect April days? Later in Spring when it's even warmer?

Perhaps in the dog days of summer when we're both hot and tired and hungry, but then rather miraculously there will be a sense of calm and relaxation and a hunger that's been there for years will morph into a giddy sense of expectation.

Maybe it will be even later in the year when we're hiking and enjoying the blazing colors of fall. Perhaps then we'll both be cold only to discover a welcome warmth. That might also happen in winter. We'll be in the snow, but there will also be an undeniable glow.

More likely it won't happen this year or next year or even the year after. But then, when we've both given up all hope, our meeting will be that much more unexpected and unforgettable.

And what if there is no meeting at all? What if you and I never meet? What if I reach the end of my life and the myth that is you never materializes? Will that still be OK? I hope so, because that my friend may be the most likely scenario.

Or maybe we'll be in the last moments of our mortal lives and like Steve Jobs saying "Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow" or Brigham Young saying "Joseph" the last word on your lips will be "Ned" and the last word on my lips will be "Ridk"?  No, no, no that's just your placeholder name.

You'll be Abe or Adam, Ben or Bart, Christian or Caleb, Dan or David, Elli or Ethan, Frank or Fred, Gabe or Glen, Harry or Henry, Ike or Ian, John or Jake, Keith or Kyle, Marlon or Mike, Nate or what if we were both named Ned?, Otis or Ozzie, Peter or Patrick, Quinn or Quentin, Robert or Richard, Seth or Stephen, Tim or Trevor, Urban or Uri, Vincent or Vlad, Wes or Woody, Xan or Xorn, Yogi or York, Zach or Zeke.

The truth is your name won't matter. Neither will the color of your eyes or hair, your height or weight. Or the sound of your voice or how much hair you have. I won't care if it's curly or straight or non-existent.

Because in that moment, whether it is real or imagined, you'll be the one for me and I'll be the one for you. That's when the ancient and the infinite will somehow join the dawn and the dusk, the heat and the cold, the sweat and the tears, the savory and the sweet and we'll both take a deep breath and awake to the aroma of freshly baked cinnamon rolls.


  1. I'd venture a pedestrian bridge surprise or a Victorian bandstand encounter is anticipated in the coming spring!

  2. Thanks for the encouragement, Beck. You prompted me to make a revision in the eighth paragraph. Thank you, my friend!