Is it because I write about Potatoes?

This morning I thought about Mercator projections, Maslow’s hierarchy, and Roget’s Thesaurus.  So you see, I can think about other things other than potatoes.  I’m not obsessed.

Maybe I expect too much.  Maybe it’s me.  Perhaps the fault lies in the way I am wired, and I just can’t see it.

Not a day goes by that I don’t run out to check the mail.  Maybe today?  But it has been several years now, and nothing.  No letter from you.

I told myself before, maybe they don’t have postage over there.  Maybe, because you passed away and no longer have a tongue you can’t lick the envelope to seal it.

But then, someone came up with email.  It is free of postage and licking.

Still you don’t write.

I’ve looked for other signs.  I know you are watching out for me.  Every time things go my way; I feel you somehow had a hand in it.  For that, I thank you.

And yes, I know I sound needy, but I’d still like a letter from you.  Something tangible I can hold in my hand.

As I write this there is a Paul Simon song playing in my head.  I think it is called, Why don’t you write me?

"I’m off in a jungle.  I’m hungry to hear you."