The windows are open and it's in the low 60s. We got an inch of rain this morning and should have lower temperature and humidity for a few days. It's been a lovely evening that, for some reason, is reminding me of summer evenings in Springfield in that wonderful house in our beautiful old neighborhood.
I'm still on my news moratorium, but current events are forcing themselves upon me. And most of it is depressing, which is why I went on my news moratorium in the first place. As we have previously noted, it appears that the world has gone mad. Tonight I was thinking about how much I miss having you to talk to about the world's craziness, how much I miss your sanity. And I realized it's something more than that: I miss your goodness.
You are the most truly good person I've ever known, good all the way through. I know you're saying that you're no such thing, but in saying that you're only proving my point by demonstrating humility. So give it up. Just like there are ways you know me better than I know myself, there are ways I know you better than you do. I've always known your goodness, knew it at first sight. That's what first drew me to you. Your goodness was an anchor for me in the face of general insanity. I admired, respected, and honored you for it, and I still do. It seemed effortless, an innate part of who you are.
I, of course, have no such trait. The first thing I saw in you was goodness; the first thing you saw in me was that I'm an independent, strong-minded, smart-mouthed woman. Between the two is a world of difference. When you were here, I could share in your goodness. Now, with you there and me here, I struggle to get along without it. I could use some help tonight. So please, please, if you can, pop in tonight and cuddle with me and tell me everything is going to be alright. Come and be my anchor for just a little while.
Drowning just a little bit,