how's your life?

I sat on a friend's patio in Lake Tahoe exchanging love letters with someone who was very far away.

Don't fade away from me, okay? I wrote. Except it wasn't really a question. It felt more like I was talking to myself.

I get so anxious these days. My back hurts. And every morning I have to crack my right elbow just to feel some kind of relief.

In Tahoe, I would wake up before everyone else, drink a glass of water, read every article about Rupert Murdoch, and stare at the lake.

I like having you around... it's nice to have someone to share my thoughts with. Talking to myself again.

It's kind of funny how close you feel to someone who's so far away. I wasn't sure what he was doing in Europe. To be honest, I didn't ask.

That night, I got a text back.

I am in Spain where English news abounds. The downfall of Murdoch has been wonderful to watch as he has been the proverbial boogeyman who has haunted since my childhood.

As for the rest, we are both restless. There is a language we share that few others recognize. I would be lying if I said I didn't think of you fondly, and often. The like functionality of being around is a door that swings both ways.

Your thoughts are embraced wherever I exist.

The air was nice; I slept outside. The lake is beautiful at night. They say thinking about the future can be so pleasurable that sometimes we'd rather think about it than get there. I was afraid. I was afraid that next time would not be as perfect as this.

I knew when I'd see him, he'd ask me, "How's your life?" This time I wouldn't have an answer. What happens when "How's your life?" no longer becomes relevant.