Dear Lena,
I know you may call me a spineless coward for saying all this to you in a letter instead of saying it to your face, but please forgive me. The reason why I am choosing to put pen to paper at this very moment is because I know no better way to express these words to you. We have known each other ever since we were born. We threw pasta at each other as babies, we sat side by side on the swings in the school playground in kindergarten, and even in high school our desks were only separated by a single aisle. You were my first friend. You are my best friend. But even though we have known each other all our lives and probably know more secrets about each other than our own parents will ever know about, there is one little thing about me that perhaps you would never have expected.
Do you remember the time when we were twelve and lying on the soft green grass up upon Castle hill? You asked me if I thought it would ever be possible between us. At that time I laughed and said with an over-confident smirk that we knew far too much about each other for us to ever be more than best friends. I ruffled your hair and patted you on the head in a patronising manner as though you were but a naïve child. You glared at me with those beautifully fierce brown eyes and chided me for being far too cocky for my own good and said perhaps one day I would regret ever saying those words. You were right, I was wrong. I knew I was wrong the minute the words came out of my mouth, but at that time I was definitely not about to swallow my ego and admit that.
I think I love you.
I think I always have.
I was always just too afraid to admit it. I feared that if I said those words I would end up losing the one friend that truly mattered. After all, where would I be if you had not been there to tell me which songs were rubbish and which were not? Where would I be if not for your shoulder to cry on when I got dumped by those shallow girls? Where would I be if your love and support were not the only constants in my life? You were always there for me, but I never had the guts to be there for you.
Dear Lena, will you forgive me?
Yours always,
James
5 December 2007
Dear Lena,
Happy 21st birthday darling. I am sorry I cannot be by your side for your birthday, but in place of me I have sent you this tape with a song I wrote just for you. Yes dear you heard me right, I wrote it just for you.
Do you remember the time when we were sixteen and you got so mad at me for sleeping through the entire day and forgetting about your birthday? Truth is, I remembered. How could you think that I would forget the day the most important person in my life was born? The reason why I ended up over-sleeping through your sweet sixteenth birthday party was because I had spent the entire week writing this very song for you. 24/7. Now even though I like to think of myself as superman sometimes (or perhaps most times), the sad fact of the matter is that I am just an ordinary human being like everyone else. And no ordinary human being can survive going a week without sleep without either a) completely crashing out for the next week or b) turning into a zombie. I am sure you would have agreed that option a) was by far the better one. As it is, this song has been sitting in my sock drawer for the past five years now. I buried it there when I found out you had started dating the school jock who was neither more handsome, more intelligent nor more talented than yours truly. Quick question, did you date him just to spite me for forgetting your birthday?
Anyhow, I hope you like the song my dear. If I had given it to you five years ago when I was supposed to, perhaps things would not have turned out the way they did. Perhaps you would not have wasted a whole three years of your life dating that piece of junk. Or perhaps you would have hated the song so much that you never wanted to speak to me again for the rest of your life. I know it sounds terribly unprofessional, but you must understand, it was recorded by a geeky sixteen year old with a tape recorder.
I love you.
The song says it all.
Yours always,
James
5 December 2008
Dear Lena,
Writing to you on this day seems to have become a habit now. Even though you are right beside me under this glorious blue sky, I find it difficult to articulate what I wish to convey to you unless I have it down on pen and paper. Who would ever have guessed that I am just as talented at letter writing as I am in song writing?
Coming back here to this place brings back so many happy memories, do you not agree? We practically grew up here, on the rolling hills of this beautiful countryside. This was where we first met, when we were still wee babes of only two years old sitting contentedly in our strollers while our mothers took the dogs out for their morning walks. You were so afraid of Muffins back then that you cried for a full two hours when he barked at you (or so Mum said, I was only two, you cannot expect me to remember details like that). I cannot remember the time when you and Muffins were sworn enemies, because by the time I could remember, which was probably at about five or six, the two of you were best friends! You became such good friends that I got jealous of you for trying to steal Muffins away from me (bet you never realised that). In fact, I was so consumed by jealousy that I cried and screamed and stomped my feet for an entire morning just so that Mum would agree to not take Muffins for her morning walk, just so that you and Muffins would not be able to meet. Thinking back on that horrid display now makes me laugh. Those were the days.
It has been almost a year since Muffins left us. I guess we should have seen it coming, she was already considered a centenarian in dog years. I cannot help but miss her still. She was such a big part of our memories from our childhood days. It was always the three of us frolicking about under the summer sunshine on these very hills. I am not thinking of ever getting another dog. There is no replacement for our Muffins.
I love you still.
Remember that always.
Yours always,
James
5 December 2009
Dear Lena,
Greetings from across the Atlantic! London is not quite as cold as home in the winter, but it sure rains a whole lot more. In fact, I think the grey and damp are getting to me. My works seem a lot more depressed as of late. Perhaps it is just the weather, or perhaps there is some other reason for it?
Meetings with the producers and musicians have gone well so far, they are extremely impressed with my music, especially with your song (Yes, the one I wrote for you at sixteen). I hope you will not get angry with me for submitting your song to the record companies. I thought it would be a good way to share our story with the world and perhaps touch the life of someone a million miles away, you will not fault me for that will you? The upside of the matter is that the song is going to be professionally re-arranged and hopefully at the end of it, what comes out is a billion times better than my lousy recording.
I am sorry you cannot be here with me dear. I know how much you would have loved to come along. Remember when we were eighteen and we came up with a bucket list of things to do before we died? I still have it stashed away in a drawer somewhere. One of the items on that list was “See the world”. I have been lucky, for my work takes me places, and I know how annoyed you must be for not being able to come along. If it gives you any comfort, there is really no place like home. After seeing so many different parts of the globe, I have come to the conclusion that there is no place I would rather be than by your side on our sloping hills under the starlit sky.
I miss you darling.
I will be back by your side soon.
Yours always,
James
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5 December 2010
Dear Lena,
There is a perfectly good reason why I am not coming to see you today. I have a black eye and bleeding top lip and I know what you are going to say if you see it. Your eyes will fill with tears and your face will take on that disappointed expression I so hate to see. I never have the guts to face you after I get into a fight, it has always been that way. I guess it is because of the shame, because I know how disappointed you will be. This is not a side of me I ever wanted you to see. I want you to always be proud of me.
I remember clearly that summer’s day when we were nineteen. I came home all bloodied up with a black eye and a dislocated shoulder. You were at the kitchen table with my mum and your jaws dropped in shock and horror the minute I walked through the kitchen door. I told you I got into a fight with some ruffians at the bowling alley because they challenged me to one and I was not about to lose a fight to any ragamuffin on the street. You looked at me with such sorrow and disappointment that I could not bear to look directly into your eyes. Why I am confessing this to you now I do not know, but the truth is I was not fighting some hoodlum to save my ego and pride. It was that worthless good-for-nothing who wasted three years of your life that I fought that day. I overheard him telling all his friends how he two-timed you for a good part of those three years and how you were stupid enough not to realise. So I hit him square in the face. I guess I really should have assessed the situation better at that time. There really was no way some scrawny band boy was ever going to defeat a crew of chunky football players. There were no regrets though. If I had to relive that day a dozen more times, I would still have thrown that punch straight in his face. No one says things like that about my girl and gets away with it.
You know, that day, while you were putting antiseptic on my black eye and bandaging my ruined shoulder, I nearly made my confession. I remember you shutting the first-aid box and gently sweeping my messed-up fringe away from my forehead. The look in your eyes was so beautiful that day. I hesitated when I should not have. And then Mum walked in and the moment was lost. I should have told you I loved you there and then, but as usual, I waited, and time went by.
Perhaps you now want to know why I once again have a black eye. I might tell you in five years time. Do not worry about me darling, for I am a grown man and have full awareness of the consequences of my actions. Please know just one thing.
I only fight for you.
I always have.
Yours always,
James
5 December 2011
Dear Lena,
Today, your song played for the first time in Madison Square Garden. After years of arguing with music directors and negotiating with producers, I finally managed to see it performed on one of the biggest stages of the world. Standing in the crowd watching this song being performed, I felt as though I was sixteen again. It felt as if I was back in my messy little room, with nothing but my guitar, singing this song for you for the very first time. This song contains all my love for you, and every word rings true now as it did when I first wrote it nine years ago. I know you are listening to it somewhere, and I hope you like it darling. I hope it keeps you safe and warm whenever you feel lonely.
Truth is, I think hate this song. Yet sometimes I get confused and I think I love it. I guess this is why they always say there is a fine line between love and hate. I hate it because it reminds me of you. I hate it because it reminds me of the times we had together. I hate it because it reminds me of the times we could have had together. But then again, I love it because of all those reasons. It helps me to not forget.
This will be my last letter to you. I write it as I sit here on our little hill under this blanket of stars. Which star are you? I remember you said that your favourite star was the northern star because it was the one that guided the lost ones home at night. I guess you must be my northern star, because you are the reason I am here right now. Throughout these six years it was as though you never left. Sometimes I felt as though you were getting further and further away from me, but then I would come back here to the place where we first met and the place we last said goodbye, and then I would feel your presence in the wind, as strong as it always was.
Now that the song is complete, I guess it is time to say goodbye for a second time. But do not fret my dear, for I will be by your side again soon. Till then.
I love you.
Wait for me.
Yours always,
James
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