Dear Mississippi,
You were one of the first people I met in my early days as a companion. Apple juice, oatmeal, pancakes, eggs, and bacon: one plate, two plates, and a little extra. You needed a lot to sustain your enormous humanity.
“Mississippi, we don’t have any apple juice left.” Of course, some would settle for its more famous sister, orange juice, but your loyalty to apple juice was remarkable! I should have saved you a couple of glasses every time — my bad!
They say we remember the people who saw us when we couldn’t see ourselves. You saw me in a way that brought out something I didn’t know I had — something I still can’t quite put into words, now that I’m so moved.
After weeks of getting to know each other, I stopped being Laura and became “Pretty Lady.” “Good morning, Pretty Lady.” “How many boyfriends do you have, Pretty Lady?” “I have had enough, Mississippi.” Your deep voice, infectious laughter, humor, and grumpy sweetness would make my day!
You would always sit at the table in the corner near the fireplace (a place you’d be loyal to till the end), take your time to eat slowly, and try the two daily desserts. Then, you’d take a nap and always say goodbye with those warm, brotherly hugs I’ll carry forever.
We’ll meet again on the other side of the veil — in dreams, in love, in connection, and in laughter. You’re part of my heart; thank you for having walked this Earth so you could impact me.
“It was more than affection or gratitude. It was something deeper. It was the sense of being seen and loved exactly for who we were.”
― Elise Broach, Masterpiece
This see-you-later letter has been posted on the Haywood Street website.
