I spent a good three hours going through my hope chest last night. There were a few things in it that I knew I wouldn’t care if I had them when I was 80 and I had to dig to the bottom of the chest to get to them in order to get rid of them and make room for other things. While doing so, I came across old love letters…from Eddie, when I was 17 and 18; from Brian, when I was 19 and 20; from George, when I was 24. I don’t have anything more recent than that. There was only one more man that I loved and who I’m pretty sure loved me—Damien, when I was 28 and 29—but no letters from him. There was also a boy—Scott, when I was 15—but I can’t find the letters from him.
It did my heart good to come across those memories. To see the words of someone who loved me, all of me, for who I was.
From a letter that Brian wrote in April 1996 (he kind of missed me while I was at Basic Training):