Dear Ms. Feverfew –
Last night…oh my, last night.
Where to even begin about last night.
I can’t find the right words to talk about last night. Let’s just say I was at an event where I watched a group of five or six high school girls about your age laugh and dance to Glenn Miller swing-era music. I imagine they are very much like you and it made me happy to think that you might be having as much fun in your life as they were apparently having out there on the dance floor.
And then I started wishing…wishing for what might have been, what should have been. I wished it was you out there, dancing to “Little Brown Jug” with your brother Captain Knuckle. I wished Mr. Amazing Man had danced you around the floor for the first dance of the evening. I wished you and your glowing smile had come and sat next to me between sets where we could giggle like school girls behind our hands as you told me how that boy stepped on your foot or that other one really knew how to Lindy-hop.
And then I came home and cried myself to sleep because Glenn Miller & B.G. DeSylva have it all wrong. Wishing won’t make it so.
Much love and belief –