*Love letters are a great way to support the USPS. Buy some stamps HERE and revive this lovely lost art
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SENT WITH LOVE
To My Beloved Angela,
It has been three days since quarantine was announced, and possibly three times that since it should have been, but what is time, dear heart, when you are not near?
I know we promised to stay apart through these awful, trying times, but my heart—and other parts—long for your tender embrace. Some hours it is almost too much and I wish to rush to your side, damn this foul virus.
Till I can—the governor says in about three weeks to a month—I will await your lettered reply.
All my heart and parts,
Henry
***
My Dearest Henry,
I have just received thine lovely letter and I am left with no choice but to dash off my own speedy reply. I woulds’t not leave thee unanswered.
As your parts yearn, as do mine ache, for this cruel separation is...cruel. As I lick this envelope and press this stamp to its papered home, it is you, my sweet prince, whomst I wish to place my tongue and touch.
Always yours,
Angela
***
Loveliest Angela,
Which century dost thou liveith? The quarantine must surely be affecting your mind, for you do not sound yourself.
But such can only be expected, when halves are kept from being whole. Never were lovers meant to stay so long away. How long has it been already? The days bleed into each other, like my heart does for you.
Worry not though, for all my other parts remain full of blood, just for you. Awaiting for that blessed time when we will meet again.
Till that time, know your letters are all that keeps me going, lo, these harsh and disconcerting days.
May my love reach out to you through these words.
Ever yours,
Henry
***
My Brilliant Henry,
Not all of us are English majors. And, if my tone sounds off, know it is because I am delirious with longing for you.
It has been two weeks since I last laid eyes on you that were not marred by the glare of a computer or phone screen. And while I will take any of you that I can, I do miss your touch, your smell, your taste. I miss hearing about your day. I miss being held by you. I miss going to all our favorite places.
Only made worse since I don’t think this will be done soon. The governor has extended our estrangement another three weeks. That will be more than a month till we see each other again. I don’t know how I’ll make it.
I honestly don’t.
Missing you daily,
Angela
***
Brave Angela,
Our love may be new but I believe it is strong and we shall endure. All great loves are tested. And, as the Lord is my witness, we are being tested.
Speaking of which, how is your father? You mentioned over the phone that he was trying to get tested for the virus. I wonder if he’s had luck. I assume I will hear about it before this letter reaches you, but I wanted to let you know he, like his beautiful daughter, is never far from my thoughts.
My fondest regards,
Your Henry
***
Most Honorable Henry,
Thank you for thinking of my father. As I told you over the phone, it is a tragic injustice that my father, who as you know has not felt well since before lockdown with symptoms associated with this dreadful disease, has not been able to receive a test.
My mother and I have done our best to keep him comfortable but, until we know yay or nay, he has been banished to the basement.
It is strange, dear heart, to feel not only so separated from you and the rest of the world, but to have it insidiously sneak into my own home. It’s been weeks of just me and my parents and to now have my world cut down yet again...it troubles me more than I thought it would.
But at least I have your letters. Sometimes, I hold them and imagine your hand writing them, pushing pen across paper, and it is almost like you are right there next to me.
But you’re not and I worry when next you will be.
Filled with deep longing,
Your Angela
***
My Aching Angel,
Reading your words, I swear I can hear your poor heart break. I wish I could hold you together again in my arms.
I hope you did not mind me driving past your house last night. I just could not go another day without seeing you, even if it was through the glassed pane of your window.
Perhaps next time, you should come to me though.
Please apologize to your parents and neighbors. I never meant to cause them alarm.
You’ve stolen my sense as well as my heart it seems.
Your goofy galant,
Henry
***
My Stalwart Knight,
I was thrilled to see you standing outside your steely, if slightly rusted, steed in my driveway that night. How I wished I could run out into your arms, like we used to.
But we live in different days, don’t we? Our dormitory passions must be tempered, patient. Or at least announced in advance.
Allow me to apologize for the remarks my father yelled at you through the basement window. He knew not whom he was speaking to or he would never have called you a broke-ass lothario.
Or perhaps he would.
In any case, yes, expect me outside your apartment window soon.
Until then,
Angela
***
My Angela,
After months of writing, I have run out of superlatives. As well as patience. Absence may, indeed, make the heart grow fonder but, with each passing day, week, and month, it begins to boil my blood.
I almost, as the youth are fond of saying, lost my shit at a fifty-ish man not wearing a mask at the grocery store. It is people like him that keep us from flattening our curve and keep you from me. I wanted to wrap him up like a mummy in PPE. And would have, if only it weren’t a waste of such valuable and needed materials.
It was the first time in more than a week that I’ve even left my apartment and I had so craved human interaction of any kind. Only to be reminded that people, on a whole, suck.
Present company excluded, of course. Angels are, by nature, more precious, more virtuous, more wise than mere mortals.
I wish I could worship by your side, rather than construct these flimsy altars of words.
Honestly, as much as I would prefer you, I wish I had anyone with me. Anyone at all. Sometimes, my apartment feels like an isolated island, apart and lost to society, leaving me a castaway adrift.
And me without my volleyball.
Logically, I know that this lockdown will end. Some day. But it’s as hard to imagine it ending as it is to think of it going on forever. I feel stuck. As if I’m forced to stand still while my life—the things I used to do, used to love, even used to hate—pass me by. Even though I know we’re all stuck, trapped in this purgatory, it doesn’t make me feel less alone.
I don’t know why it feels easier to say things like that in a letter than over the phone. Maybe because I don’t want to ruin the time we get to spend together, talking face to phone. But here it’s just me, inking my thoughts into the nothingness, like some stamped message in a bottle, hoping it reaches someone.
I worry that all this is making me into someone else. Someone blander. Plainer. Sadder. I worry you won't recognize me, when we finally stand face to face. I worry that I don't recognize myself now.
Anyway, insert silly joke here to make you smile.
I miss everything, but mostly you,
Henry
***
My Henry,
I thought about calling or messaging you right after I read your letter, but it felt wrong. Like you said, sometimes, there are things you can only say through a letter. Where talking about it on the phone or text would ruin it, make everything you want to say come out wrong.
I hope I made the right choice.
I love you.
You are not alone.
We will see each other again.
I know it all seems so bleak now and hope is hard to hold on to. So I will hold yours until you can carry it again, safe in the knowledge that you would do the same for me.
Know that I am always thinking of you and worrying about you, all alone on your island, but you are never lost. And, if you ever were, I will help you find your way. No one deserves to feel adrift, least of all you.
If you ever need an anchor, please know I am here. And, if I’m ever not enough, I’ve included the business card of our campus mental health services. I’ve used them before and it was helpful. I checked their website and saw that they’re doing phone and digital chat sessions, as well as in person appointments.
Again, you are loved.
Your Angela
PS. Please call me. We don’t have to talk about this. I just want to hear your voice.
***
My North Star,
I love you.
You are the best.
That is the letter.
With all my heart,
Your Henry
PS. My next letter will be longer, I promise, but this was necessary to say and well worth the price of a stamp.
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