My Bridgette

Bel told me it was cathargic to write things down. To write things down so you let it all out. I never felt the need to until now. 

I was born with not so much a silver spoon in my mouth but more silver plated. My mother was born with money. My father was born with influence. It was a mutal and very productive union. It was only fitting to produce an heir. 

I wasnt that old when the chaos hit our family. My aunt Geneva taking off with a backwoods doctor with neither money nor influence. I grew up learning how to push my nose in the air and pretend I was better than everyone else. Even my aunt. I remember bits and pieces of her. She was nice. Smelled good. And she enjoyed music. I remember my mother being very sad when she left. And I remember my grandfather yelling at anyone that mentioned her name. 

I never understood how someone could run away with someone. Was that love so pure and deep that someone could survive on just each other? 

Now I do. Bridgette is my life. I couldnt love anyone more than  I could love her. She knows what I am thinking before I even say it. She looks at me as if I could move the moon or die trying. I ran away for her. I ran away with her and I will never regret one moment. Because if I am not with her. I will cease to live.