Another Year, Another Time

Dear H,

Well, it's your birthday again and a year's posts were not made in another year of indecision. This one comes in at the deadline in Pacific Standard Time amid sheer determination to make it so, and begun with half an hour to spare.

So, spare content, but here's the gist: with recent and ongoing correspondence of another generation, it's evident that once again, you do not care. For your birthday, I wish you the pleasant discovery you should've had two days ago. I could not defend your reaction and the grief it caused her, but I still wish you well and send birthday love. I do care.

Happy Birthday H

Many happy returns of the day. I sincerely hope that it finds you well.

This blog has been created to take the place of letters which I write to you every year on your birthday. Additionally, it allows me to share thoughts more often than yearly, and without worrying that another person intercepts mail that is meant for you. I've seldom been certain that you actually receive what is sent.

A hard copy of this first post will be sent to you by snail mail. For verification, there will be a fact in that letter that is known only to the two of us.

My identity is known to those who have a need to know. You've known it since the days when Applegarth was a part of an address on envelopes you used to send me letters, when I had a different name than I do now. I loved those days, and you.