My dear, dear friend,
It feels strange to put pen to paper when so much between us can never be spoken aloud, yet something in me longs to give shape to the thoughts that linger after we communicate.
There are those who stay with us, not through constant presence, but through the quiet way their memory lingers—like the scent of the jungle rain after it’s passed, or the echo of laughter that seems to live in the lomas long after the sound has faded. You’ve been that for me.
You and I share a language few others understand—a rhythm of memory and meaning that traces back to simpler days, when the world seemed filled with possibilities, and the future was still unwritten. When we have talked, it feels as though time folds in on itself, and we are once again those young kids, laughing without reason, unaware of how rare and important that kind of closeness would become.
There is a quiet comfort in knowing that somewhere out there, you remember the same jungle paths, a hint of smoke in the air, the tepid water of a tropical lake. It connects us in ways that defy distance or circumstance. Life has carried us both where we belong, and for the most part, I’m grateful for that, though my hope is, there’s a time somewhere ahead when we can connect like that again….. not for a lifetime perhaps, but just enough for a quiet embrace, a stolen kiss from the heart and a few remembered words—to remind us, what once was, in a quiet way, is still there.
Perhaps, by divine providence, I will not see you again…. then it must be! If that is so, I hope you know your presence in my life has been something enduring and gentle, a light that reaches me through the mist of time. Some things are felt more than spoken, and this is one of them. Friend, dear friend, you will forever remain a cherished and treasured part of my story, one that time has only made more precious.
With quiet affection,
A Forged Heart
Remnant's Edge 
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