There is no such thing as getting over someone, if it is so, then you did not love.
My name is Jane Mchoney. I am studying at University of Sydney. I am currently in my first year into my Law degree. I hate it, it’s hard. But I am good at it. The friends I have made in Sydney are fun, lively and most people on the street I pass are strangers. My neighbours don’t like to talk to me and the best part of all, most people don’t know me.
It’s a lovely change that I still find amusing, comforting.
I grew up northern NSW, in a small town called Conty. Where everyone knew everything about everyone. While a part of me enjoyed the gossip. I admit. But the majority of me hated the fact that everyone knew my business as much as I knew theirs. No need for a trashy magazine, just go buy some milk from the local store; five minutes tops and you’re up to date. I admit, it was juicy and enticing, but sucked when it was you they were gossiping about that day. And I just happened to be the gossip, a lot.
I haven’t been back to my home town in over 2 years. But I my old friends, the old memories don’t seem so far away while I stand here holding this letter.
The hand writing I recognised like anyone would recognise their own, or your Mums. The letter is addressed to me. I don’t need to flip it over to read the return address to even confirm what I already know, but I do it anyway. Jake Lakers. 10 Wallaby Rd Conty.
I sit down on my front steps at my front door still wearing my work clothes, holding this letter like it has results to an unwanted pregnancy. Sigh.
I suck in a huge breath of air and blow it out as I slip my finger under the envelopes opening. This is either going to be a marriage invitation or one of those letters that fuck everything up. I am guessing the latter. Because even marriage gossip finds it way to me. Even with me down here.
I open the envelope and the paper is just ordinary. I haven’t held a paper written letter in a long time. Emails seem so normal and useful. It felt nice. I hadn’t noticed I’ve missed the feel of it. I even get my bank statements through the computer now.
I flip open the paper. I’ll just skim through it, I thought. That way I don’t have to really digest all the information but get straight to the point of it. Perfect.
Dear Jay Jay,
Before you freak, I got your address from your mother. She was only too pleased to give it to me.
I bet your holding this letter trying your best to skim through it to get the basic idea of what I am writing to you.
I am doing my best to avoid giving you that information by simply stating the facts of your personality I remember so fondly.
I write to you because emails are so easily ignored and forwarded on. Also I know you appreciate hand written notes and cards more then a well worded email.
If I still have you reading then I am doing well and that thought brings me to finally approach the point to this letter, I am still madly in love with you.
For years you haven’t been around. I still drive past your house and expect to see you riding the horses. I visit your parent’s home often for casual dinners, as you know and still your room smells of you.
I miss your laugh and your mother is rather fond in telling me the adventures you’re having and I add in my mind, the X rated details I know you would’ve left out just to help her keep her sanity.
I miss you, I love you.