I had a dream last night about you. I have dreamed about you before but this one was unusual: you were alive, and I saw you and W.
I know this is just a manifestation of my subconscious desire, but it really felt like a visit. A delightful, unbidden, welcome visit.
I hugged you and I told you that I had published your letters, as I once said I would. I asked if you wanted to resume our correspondence. I was a bit disappointed that you declined, but I understand; postal service and Internet connection being what they are between the realms of the living and the dead.
I wish we had had more time. I have so much to tell you: I earned my MBA. I am divorced now. I have twin teen aged boys. I am a "homemaker."
I would love to discuss current events with you. The world has changed in the past twelve years: Gay rights and gay marriage are no longer a fantasy. Our president sucks. The U.S. is in another senseless war.
Although my grief over losing you has lessened in recent years, my love for you clearly hasn't. Thanks so much for your brief visit.