I just wanted to write and say I had a really good time at your wedding. It was great to spend some time with Mary, which I hadn’t really done before. I’m exceedingly happy for you guys. You both made me feel really comfortable. I guess I already knew this, but you’re both really good people.
To be honest, when you invited me to your wedding, at first I was nervous about going. I’ll even admit that part of me didn’t want to go at all. But don’t take it personally. I just felt guilty having not spoken to you in so long. When you asked me to be a groomsman, I didn’t think I deserved it. I have a knack at shutting people out, and I don’t really like the phone, and I automatically think it’s my fault that we don’t talk consistently. But I know your heart is in the right place.
Do you remember the time you said you hoped we’d still be friends at forty? That was almost ten years ago. We must have been twenty-three or so. I was driving and you were in the passenger seat. We’d just come around the curve at Dowd Junction, heading east on I-70. I can picture the moment clearly. I’m reminded of it nearly every time I drive there now. I guess that’s just how my memory works because the place seems really important. I made a conscious effort to remember the exact location, maybe because I thought I’d remember nothing twenty years from then. Or maybe I remember it so well because I feel like I betrayed you in that moment. I was already trying to remove, with a scalpel, my shy high-school self.