An excerpt.

Dear Miss A.,

I realize it's been a terribly long time since I've written you. I don't really know why. I'm bad at keeping up with things. And facing things. But here I am, I'm facing you, telling you about my day, whether you like it or not.

I thought of you the other day when I bought a classy pair of brown high heels. They are really high and painful. I tried them on probably 20 times before buying them. And there I found myself, lost in the cacophony of shoes at Nordstrom Rack, remembering how you always said high heels were comfortable for you and how it made me jealous. My stupid narrow feet and high arches. Thinking of you amidst the shoe aisles is not an uncommon occurrence for me. I can't go shoe shopping without thinking how much you would want to buy this black pair of peep-toe, hidden platform heels (nevermind you already had several pairs of a similar shoe), or this pair of red satin pumps. Buying my pair of heels was easier knowing you would approve. Buying heels is a big deal for me-- it doesn't happen often. That was always your thing. Maybe that's why I bought them-- so that when I wear them, I'm wearing a little bit of you. I wore them to a wedding with a beautiful aquamarine dress that actually made my eyes blue. I felt pretty for once, and now I understand why you loved to dress to the nines and feel pretty.

I saw the new movie with John Krasinski yesterday. I couldn't help but feel guilty that I was seeing it and you weren't. He was absolutely yours. You would always say, "I want to climb him like a tree." I always thought that was peculiar, but now it makes a lot of sense to me. I mean, he is tall. And handsome, especially with that beard.

For Andrew's wedding luncheon, I sang a lovely little song called "Find Love." Now I understand why you wanted so badly to find true love. I surely hope you've found it somewhere in those crazy stars and planets, amidst millions of flitty butterflies, with Coldplay songs streaming across a galaxy.

And I sure as hell hope I find it on this silly little Earth.

An afterthought.

Dear Northern Utah,
Are you trying to be the Pacific Northwest? If so, I suggest you stop trying. I don't know who you're trying to fool with your recent chilly, wet, thunderous nature in the midst of summer. I mean, I appreciate the recent frequent downpours, and I like your newfound super green-ness. But it's not really you. Are you trying to change who you are because you think Seattle and the like are prettier than you? Seattle and friends are very pretty, but so are you. You are pretty in your own special way, as Mom says. And you are a desert and not a coastal state. So quit trying to be something else. Get some confidence and just be yourself, dammit! Seriously, get a grip.

With love,
KG