As I walked through the field this evening, the cool breeze whispering through the poplar trees, the cotton falling gently at my feet, I couldn’t help but think of my man. Even my tennis shoes remind me of Merritt, because he bought them for me.

I looked around at the familiar and truly picturesque scenes in front of me. The farms, the old fences, the hills, the clouds, the trees… But in my mind’s eye, I kept seeing his fields, the hill we climbed, the railroad tracks, and a farmer in a cowboy hat changing irrigation.

I don’t know if the valley where he lives is more beautiful to other eyes, or if it is simply because it is the place that he calls home that I love it so. I only know that tonight, I wished I were walking down his road… I longed to feel his hand holding mine, to steal a kiss as the sun set…

Instead, I come back and try to put my feelings onto paper, affix a love stamp, and put it in the mailbox…