Obsessions of a Wandering Mind

A single flame lights my desk as I pull out my supplies. A sheet of ecru cotton paper sits in front of me, waiting to be filled. Dipping my glass pen into the sepia ink, I think of another time, a time when writing letters was commonplace. Still, I enjoy my quirky habit, I love the feel of the glass nib as it scratches across the paper. I love to think carefully of each word before I place it permanently, or occasionally to let my thoughts flow as fast and freely as the ink.

I can feel the cold air from outside creeping in as I begin to write, but it does not phase me; I am warmed from within. It doesn't truly matter what I put, so long as it is what I am feeling at the time. You will not care if the language is poetic and romantic, or if it is the colloquial speech I use everyday. What matters is that the letter is full of my thoughts, and that those thoughts are for you. Tonight I am feeling particularly old fashioned, so I ramble on in a wistful fashion, slowly filling the page with my slanting script. Though you are far away, I feel connected to you when I write. The loneliness is not so overwhelming when I speak to you through ink.

And then the end of the page arrives. I am not yet ready to say goodbye, but the call of my nearby bed is stronger than that of the paper...at least tonight. But first, before I drift off to see you in my dreams, I must place the finishing touches. I carefully add a scent the to the page; the smell you will forever associate with me fills the room, bergamot with a touch of sandalwood. Setting aside the page to dry, I turn to the envelope. I carefully scribe your name on the front and begin to think. Perhaps a bible verse on love, but no...not tonight. Tonight I chose the lyrics to a song, for my heart is full of song this evening. I transcribe a verse from a love song to my envelope. After the ink dries I insert my note and seal the envelope. Using green wax and a brass wax seal, I mark the letter with my mark a celtic trinity knot.

I get up, placing the letter by the door, and putting away my things. I blow out the candle, letting the smoke fill the room. The note is finished. My love never will be.