Dear Jesse,

Just thinking of you, on this equinox; missing the chance to walk into the reading room of schauffler to find you with your head bent over a book by Voltaire, or to chase leaves with you on the way to tea... At least I can still tell you about my peppermint plant named Annie, and the headdress of yellow beech leaves I made today. I know you can't reply, but I feel somehow you are listening.