PO BOX 1231
MIDDLETOWN SPRINGS, VT 05757
December 9, 2020
First of all, I wish to thank you for inviting me in to your home to let me sit on your couch and catch up for awhile. It was truly beautiful for me to sit on your couch and cry and let you know that you were one of the four people in my life I considered grandparents (you, your husband Clayt, Frank, and Carol).
These past few months have been absolutely crazy for me, and my life has changed in numerous ways. I broke up with my fiance, Angie, after we were together for a little over 18 years. I literally disappeared on my 41st birthday after Angie and I got into a huge argument over trivial matters. I did not know I was lost, the tears I shed were a warning sign often ignored, as I slowly became disenchanted with my life and love. Shadows fall, love hurts, and the perpetual disenchantment becomes a corrosive that does its magic slowly to the point where only bitterness remains. It was then, on my birthday, that I had finally had enough of Angie and her entire family. When one loses love, it feels as if one’s heart is put on display for all the world to see, along with the remnants of their dreams and life plans tossed into threshers and all torn to pieces.
I packed a suitcase with my essentials, and simply drove away in my car. I’m again reminded of my life, and how I would often frame and categorize the eras of my life in suitcases, as until now I never had any place to truly call home. Home is not simply the place where one lives; a home is a place where one truly belongs.
In the month that I spent camping out at my mom’s house, I purchased my forever home in Vermont, and while the real estate was dealing with transferring the house deed, I ran away to Maine and started a new relationship. My new girlfriend, Amelia and I are now living together in my dream house, here in Vermont. You would absolutely love Amelia. She’s cute, has my kind of personality, and is incredibly intelligent.
It has truly been a tumultuous time in my life, filled with good times and bad, though in recent months, it seems that finally, the picture-perfect maps I used to draw in my mind of how my life and love would be have finally come to fruition, and for the first time in a very long time, I can honestly say that I am truly happy.
I still visit my mom in Stamford about once a month, in fact she came to stay with us during Thanksgiving, along with Amelia’s parents. My mom hasn’t been the same since my father passed away several years ago, and Amelia and I have been making the trip back to see my mom on a monthly basis, sometimes twice a month. I would love to come and see you as well,
but I am very concerned about the COVID-19 situation, and think that perhaps it would be safer to keep in touch via mail.
I stopped by my old house in Schoharie to let Angie know that I’ve moved on and that the house would be gifted to her in January of 2021 because it was easier to let it go than it would be to sell it to someone else. Apparently, she cannot come to grips with the reality that I am not coming back to her, and have literally started a new life somewhere else with someone whom she will never meet. One does not realize exactly what they possess until it is suddenly swept away, just as one does not truly find oneself until they are so helplessly lost that they come frantically crawling upon the shores of solace. Angie knew that one day I would be successful. She must have known that one day I would be a star, but perhaps she never anticipated the possibility that I would be a star in someone else’s sky.
If by some chance you ever find yourself in this part of Vermont, you are of course, always welcome to stay here at our house anytime. We have a nice house in the middle of nowhere,
that’s nestled 6 miles between two towns on 10 acres of flat land. It is absolutely wonderful to finally settle down somewhere where nobody knows me and I can relax and get a fresh start.
Please keep in touch! If you’re comfortable, I’d like to stop by and see you sometime, and would love for you to meet my new love.
In memory of Ellen Wayman
December 23, 1930 – December 21, 2020