Six years ago, she meant a lot to me. I’ve never been in love, but at the time it was the closest that I’d ever been to being in love. We talked for hours on the phone about everything and nothing at all. I went over to her house often. We’d talk over there, sometimes walking hand in hand up and down the street that she lived on. I’d never experienced that before.

But I was just about to start my life at college, and I had to go. I told her that I’d write her when I got there so she’d have my address to write back. She promised that she would.

The first semester that I was at college was filled with letters. Even though I came home often, her words were always a source of comfort when I was here. And apparently mine to her were as well; she once mentioned falling off the couch laughing at my description of a bad day that I’d had. She’d had one the day she’d received that letter, but my words put it out of her mind, she wrote. I wonder what I wrote.

But of course time passes on, and distance is a hard thing to overcome. The feelings between us changed to that of good friends, and then to friends with time and distance between them.

Tonight while sorting through my life, I came upon all the letters that she wrote me. Old words that meant so much to me back then. And they still do today, because they give me hope that one day there will once again be someone out there that will think thoughts about me like those that she wrote six years ago.