I just wanted to write and say, in case you are hit tomorrow by a truck or are swept from the beach by a freak wave; or in case your ex-wife decides to take her own life right after taking yours; or in case you go to the doctor, who finds a lump in your neck, and you are carried swiftly out onto the terrible waters of clinics and infusions and I never see you again — I just wanted to say, Bon voyage, my friend, my dear and former friend. I just wanted to confess how much you meant to me back then, before I learned to hold my love in check thanks to my tutorial with you. Thank God I got those holes sealed shut through which every passerby could see my neediness, and thank God I banished you into that frozen part of me where nothing moves or breathes. And yet it’s funny, isn’t it? Our weakness can never be eliminated; neediness is part of what we are. Living is a kind of wound; a wound is a kind of opening; and even love that disappeared mysteriously comes back like water bubbling up from underground, cleansed from its long journey in the dark. Right in the open, there it is, waiting for someone to arrive and kneel and drink from it.