I sorely wish that I had been writing when I had met you. I was so naive, you know? The kind of innocence that only time and experience can destroy. It took me years to understand that I needed to be ignorant so that you could leave and find another who could bring you true happiness. I think about you often, and as the leaves turn from green to gold and fall lazily from a home from which they will never return, so, too, do I fall from ignorance. I know you’ll never find this, but if you do, know that you were a summer storm, a snow-capped peak in a morning sunrise, and an ocean breeze brimming with the sun. I hope this life is kind to you, friend. I truly do.