My cousin sent me a valentine, and because I was afraid of all it might say, I let it sit unopened on my desk for more than a day. I tried to predict what she might have to say to me, and I knew I didn't have anything to say to her. I never have.
We've always been different, and we've always tried to hide it. My cousin grew up in the South, and I didn't, and when we were young we embraced the differences in how we talked, but we didn't talk that much.
She said \y'all"" and I said ""you guys,"" and we laughed and that made for a conversation, and I think that was our last conversation. In the past 10 years we haven't said much, but she's said more.
She's talked to me about Jesus and the sorority, and she's mentioned mission trips and saving people on the beach. She's told me about her car and her cell phone, and she's said she prays for me, and I don't know what to tell her.
I'd rather not talk to her than talk to her about things that might upset her. I'd rather be out of her reach than be in an argument, and I try to keep away, but she finds me, because I think she has to. And, I think I may have to find her sometimes, too.
I know my valentine came as an invitation for me to write to my cousin. It's been seven months, and I could easily make it a year, but she doesn't want that, and I don't know what I want.
Part of me wants to write a long letter about Christianity and what I think about Jesus. And then I'd add a part about beauty queens and hypocrisy and money and saving people, and I don't know how I'd start that letter.
Another idea I have is to write a letter that says, ""Tell me everything you know about me. Love, Andrew,"" and I don't know if I could bring myself to send that one. Instead, I'm forced to start thinking about the letter I'm actually going to write to my cousin about winter and school and work and Wisconsin. I'll write a letter of maybe two paragraphs, and I won't say anything that really matters, and then I'll wonder if she wrote about anything that really matters in her valentine letter to me.
What she said was, ""Hello from the South!"" and ""How are you?"" and ""I'm confident God has great plans for your life."" This wasn't everything I'd expected, but I think she kept some parts out for me, yet she still somehow managed to say things that just might matter.
It was a good valentine, and now I'll wait a few days, afraid of what I might have to say to her, before I finally get something out in the mail. Then she'll know what I'm up to.
And I think we'll keep this up. And someday we'll even get together to talk. And someday my son will ask her daughter if she'd like a can of pop. And her daughter will laugh and wonder what he's talking about. And they'll have a conversation. And then maybe someday they'll write each other letters.
andrewmiller@students.wisc.edu
