On the last day of the medical conference, I was in my hotel room, trying to writea letter to Hawkeye.
Dear Hawkeye,
You've done a wonderful job chairing the conference.
No.
Dear Hawkeye,
I don't believe we're almost done with the medical conference!
It sounded like something a seventh grader would write to her best friend at the end of a school year.
Dear Hawkeye,
This letter is being written in my hotel room. It's almost seven in the morning.
Boring.
I was about to begin the fourth draft of the letter that would probably never see the light of day when my phone rang.
"Hello?"
"The conference starts in forty-five minutes. "
"Thank you, Dr. Matthews."
He did that EVERY MORNING, without fail.
After hanging up, I commanded myself to write.
Dear Ben,
I've tried to start this letter three times, but I think that my writing is being controlled by a twelve-year-old.
There's no easy way to get into this, but then, in our situation, nothingis.
I want you to come to Stockton and meet Calla. She's your daughter, through and through.Calla knows almost nothing about her father. I've been putting off telling her, but now I know that I have to. Seeing you here has brought back a lot of memories that I have to face, good or bad. And, in my opinion, there are a lot of good ones.
Find me after the conference. If you don't want to come and face my horrifying family, I'll understand. (Half the time I don't want to face them myself.)
And then I got stuck. How would a letter of that nature be signed? Love? Sincerely? From? Yours truly?
Finally,I scrawled the final line.
--Jaclyn
XXX
A/N: Sorry about the long time between updates. I've had a bit of writer's block. But I'm back!