I sent you an email recently, thanking you for being who you've always been after reading a series of confessions from many who are without. I didn't get specific then, but I will now. I owe you everything for having always believed in me, pushing me, instilling the importance of a good stretch. Thank you for always painting me with a different brush, writing me letters, showing me the things you know I'll appreciate, loving my mind, and never running out of advice, (or martinis) to share. Thank you for teaching me to admit when I'm wrong, cry when I'm sad, and laugh until my guts hurt. Thank you for your sentimentality, our talks, our sits, our love of Cat Stevens; Thank you for always trying to understand, even when you don't. I love you.
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