My dear friend,
When I read ’s weekend engagement post and saw the prompt about writing a letter to one and only one Hive person, I knew instantly who I would write to (whom, right?). There was no need for me to leaf through my followers or following list to pick out a deserving person – there is none more deserving. I didn’t give a moment’s thought to whether this person or that would result in greater rewards on the post – my rewards from having met you on Hive have crossed into priceless beyond measure.
It was January 2019. I’d been in these parts a few months, with very little to show for it. No one other than one haiku writer had paid me the least attention. Then I tried my hand at a freewrite, my first ever. My first freewrite remains etched permanently on the blockchain, with a comment from you. You read and commented on the post that has, essentially, launched my passion for what I do most on Hive, freewrites.
The next thing I knew, you were following me, bringing my followers all the way up to an astonishing forty one. Here is the second comment you ever made on one of my posts, a post of gratitude for my having been adopted by for a week:
Late to the party but I'm now Following you!
Gardening a micro-prairie is awesome (plus you have chickens!! We have so many fox, wolves, coons, etc, I haven't even tried). HOW COOL that you also sing at a jazz club! Our son is a jazz bassist living in New York , staying out of debt, but not earning enough to have a wife and kids (his sister thinks he needs to but he's happy, so hey!).
The techno-challenges of Steemit are legion. Formatting glitches still plague me. Hang in there! And call on fellow Steemians for help with the glitches (Bruni is a great resource as you've already found). Welcome to #freewritehouse!
There was that spate of time when we wrote haiku together, in the comments of one or the others posts. Here’s the first of them:
modest goddess
engaged with nature
the wedding is off!
Then there were those afternoons we spent trading comments on various posts. We’d carry on whole conversations on ’s posts, or
, or
’s or or or… You taught me how to write comments! Nobody leaves comments like yours. Most of them could pass as posts of their own. You delve. You research. You expound. You downright effuse. You disclose. You provide. And let’s not discount the fact that you never use the word “moist.” Should any awards be given for Best Engagement on Hive, you would get my vote, no question.
It would not be a stretch to say your interest in me and my writing inspired me to continue producing it for this long; I write everything, in large part, for you.
Our friendship grew. It became too big to exist on Hive alone. We exchanged phone numbers, email addresses, physical addresses, books (mostly you to me – thank you so much!), poetry (ditto), literary critiques (same), cards (you guessed it), and political/social opinions.
When I suffered a terrible loss, you were there more consistently than any other person in my life, either online or in the flesh.
I write to you today, Palm Sunday, knowing that this is the first anniversary of one of your most terrible losses, the loss of a third sister. It’s got to be a rough day, yet you found the time to email me about my grief of all things, and not yours.
I don’t know how to wrap this letter up other than to tell you how much I love you.
All my love my dear friend. I love you.
@CarolKean, this is for you.
This is my entry for one of 's weekend engagement writing topics. I have never met this person in the flesh, and so I have no photographs that I took myself of her, or of us together. I have used a few of mine that Carol has marveled over, as she marvels over much of what I post here.