Of course, at the same time all this is happening, a pen friend is here from out of town and we are going to get together for the day. I wish I could bring her and her husband to my house but not when it looks like THIS. Instead, we will spend a rainy afternoon showing them what makes Portland unique . . . Powell's bookstore, maybe a drive by Multnomah Falls, a stop into VooDoo Doughnuts, a cool thrift store, etc. I love this city and hope to show it off as much as possible despite cold, wet weather.
Of course, throughout everything I do, my mind wanders to the loss of my friend. It's like reaching out the pulling on a wound each time. It hurts fresh without fail. Last nite I expected to dream of him, but instead dreamt of my oldest daughter--a common occurrence--and how she came over, spent the evening at some camp site with us and best of all, let me hug her for a moment without stiffening up but instead, hugged me back. Those dreams are tough. I wake up smiling and it quickly turns to tears.
Amidst the new year starting chaos going on, I took a moment to tally up my letter writing for 2010. Even I was a little astonished at the final numbers. I received a total of 585 letters and I sent out a total of 665. That's a bunch of fountain pen ink and paper, eh? I have met some really tremendous friends over the year through letters. I am so glad I rediscovered the joy of corresponding.
Okay, off to get ready to meet one of those correspondents. We will explore the city together and hopefully she will go home raving about Portland--albeit wet and cold, a fascinating place.