IputthepagesasideandremembersittingwithAllieonourporchwhenshereadthisletterforthefirsttime.Itwaslateafternoon,withredstreakscuttingthesummersky,aremnantsofthedaywerefading.Theskywasslowlygingcolor,andasIwaswatgthesungodown,Irememberthinkingaboutthatbrief,flickeringmomentwhendaysuddenlyturnsintonight.

    Dusk,Irealizedthen,isjustanillusion,becausethesuherabovethehorizonorbelowit.Andthatmeansthatdayandnightarelinkedinawaythatfewthingsare;thereotbeohouttheother,yettheyotexistatthesametime.

    Howwoulditfeel,Irememberw,tobealwaystogether,yetforeverapart?

    Lookingback,Ifinditironicthatshechosetoreadtheletterattheexaentthatquestionpoppedintomyhead.Itisironic,ofcourse,becauseIknowtheanswernow.Iknowwhatitsliketobedayandnightnow;alwaystogether,foreverapart.

    Thereisbeautywherewesitthisafternoon,AllieandI.Thisisthepinnaylife.Theyarehereatthecreek:thebirds,thegeese,myfriends.Theirbodiesfloatonthecoolwater,whichreflectsbitsandpiecesoftheircolorsandmakethemseemlargerthantheyreallyare.Allietooistakeninbytheirwonder,andlittlebylittlewegettoknoweachain.

    "Itsgoodtotalktoyou.IfindthatImissit,evehashatlong."

    Iamsincereandsheknowsthis,butsheisstillwary.Iamastranger.

    "Isthissomethingwedooften?"sheasks."Dowesithereandwatchthebirdsalot?Imean,doweknoweachotherwell?"

    "Yesandno.Ithinkeveryonehassecrets,butwehavebeenacquaintedforyears."

    Shelookstoherhands,thenmine.Shethinksaboutthisforamoment,herfaceatsua