Morphine Friends

Please see attached

I don’t want to go to work today because today is a day I’d like to spend writing love letters to all my friends. When’s the last time any of us received a love letter, a letter written in someone else’s handwriting, in ink, on paper, maybe paper with a little pattern at the top to show that it’s not for taking notes or making your grocery lists, that it’s reserved as a sort of miniature tapestry for deep secrets or declarations from one heart to another? Sometimes I wonder if the people I love recognize my handwriting anymore, if I recognize theirs. I don’t want to go to work today because today is a day I’d rather scrawl words that will make my friends feel seen and glowy and deep. Words that will make them forget the non-love letters they receive every day that start, “Apologies for the delayed response” and “Please see attached.” Dear Danielle, you are an instrument of the gods of care and calligraphy and I want you to know that whatever gifts you dream up and create for others, that you are the gift. You are the gift. Dear Emma, you are an epic organizer and your heart is like an open hand and frankly, your hugs melt away the sharp ice that makes my heart feel cold some days. Dear Lua, you are a generous spirit and a lifeline within chaos and thank you for always opening the door for us. Dear Denise, you are the perfect desk mate for me and, despite our mutual bad attitudes, also a cornucopia of genuine connection when I’m feeling scarce and fragmented. And dear and dear and dear all of my loves who love me, I don’t want to go to work today because I’d rather document my love for you like a scribe and notate it like a librarian and research it like a PhD and ponder it like a philosopher and honor it like a monk. What a gorgeous day that would be, handing out love like morphine. I had kidney stones two Tuesdays in a row once. My mother says it’s worse than giving birth, but I’ll have to take her word for it. I was screaming in the hospital bed, and the nurse was prepping the IV in my right arm and said “this may pinch a little” and I giggled hysterically and thought what a stupid thing to say and when the warm liquid feeling flowed through me I gulped sighs of thank you lord almighty fucking finally. finally. finally. I don’t want to go to work today because I want to tell all of my friends that they are an injection of morphine in the midst of life’s kidney stones and I gulp fucking thank yous over and over again, writing love letters in my head while typing “Please see attached.”