An Email from Professor
This is an email that my husband sent me a few weeks ago. I have decided to share it now because I have found myself going back to it over and over again. His words mean everything to me, but will be easily identified by all. I hope you enjoy.
Final proctoring done, in 35 minutes. Now left to sit at my desk, pretending that the stack of ungraded exams before me means something. I’m sure that the sensation over my skin means something more. Memories of soft, warm flesh, visions of eyes looking up into mine. Faint traces of bodies between sheets, and the weight of winter blankets. Voices in whimpers and grunts. Smells of femininity, masculinity, and carnal animal desire. Morning coffee, glowing fire, comfort of couch. Security. Knowing. Feeling. Certainty, that all that lies before me means everything, and it is most definitely not a stack of exams. I must spend the remainder of this day pretending the monuments of clutter surrounding me are important. Knowing what truly IS will guide me through this charade….