Until I Meet You

December 16,20071

Dear Whoever You May Be,2

I don’t know who you are, or how I’m going to meet you. I may have already met you, or I may meet you in the coming years. I only wish I could give this letter to you, but you are yet a mystery to me. I love you even though I don’t know who you are. It seems odd, even to me, to love a person you have no knowledge of, someone you’ve never met with the awareness of your future. Someday, I will know, and someday I can tell you face to face that I love and not just through lost and aimless words on a white abyss of empty, aging paper of my longing for you.3

I dream of you often, but I find my dreams unsatisfactory, because I can’t imagine your face, can’t feel the touch of your hand, can’t see the love in your eyes, and can’t hear your voice. You are but a vague and foggy image in my mind. 4

Just tell me what your name is. Please. I want to know. I need to know. But, I guess, that’s quite impossible, isn’t it? In my mind you are nameless, anonymous, and a mystery. You don’t know me, and you certainly don’t know I’m talking to you, or rather writing to you. You have no knowledge of me. I am yet a mysterious figure in your future, as well. 5

I wish you could hear me. I want to tell you all of my secrets, those deep and painful ones I keep hidden from all the world. I long to tell someone, but no one would understand, not the way you would. You and you alone could listen and give the comfort I long for, the comfort I need. 6

I’m sorry, but I must leave now. Next time I write to you… well… I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. I wish you luck with whatever you do today. Just be yourself and don’t worry what everyone else thinks of you, because no matter what they say, I’ll always love you. 7

With love,8

The one who dreams of you9