Tonight as I strolled about town, I called The Southern Gentleman. He sounded slightly surprised to hear my voice. I greeted him in my usual manner. He went on his little road trip. I questioned how the drive went and he said it was good - he had "time to think". I did not question what he was thinking about because I have a pretty damn good idea.
His voice sounded happy at my call. The Southern Gentleman stated he was surprised at my call, especially since he had just finished a letter to me about an hour before. I cheerily say "we've got ESP" and he says "yeah, it looks like it" with a smile in his voice.
We talk about SxSW land. At some point I touch on a harmless topic that he addressed in his letter and he says that is something he touched on in his letter so we wouldn't talk about it as to not be redundant. We discussed his week home and his current excursion. It was good. The Southern Gentleman asks when I head west next, then says "you'll have to watch your post box for the letter."
In that moment, the light bulb springs to life over my dim head. Not an e-mail like I had assumed this previously mentioned letter was, but a real honest to goodness hand written, pen and paper letter. I am believing that any man who would take the time to write a good old fashioned letter only has good things to say.
So now I am on pins and needles, waiting to get home to see what the mailbox holds for me. Some days it is better not to know because the anticipation may very well kill me. Part of me so excited but a small part of me is afraid too. An letter, a note can hold so much or so little. And we've already discussed my lack of patience! OMG! Good thoughts, Internet!