Her (via Skype): I’ve been thinking about when we were little.
Her: About how we used to sneak into each others’ beds when we were scared, and cuddle up together in the dark.
Me: Mom and Dad kept telling us that we didn’t need our own bedrooms, because we always wanted to share one bed.
Her: When I was really scared, you used to scratch my back. You’d gently scratch out the shape of a letter, and make me guess what it was…
Me: … and it was always love or happy or…
Her: … or my name, or your name. And it always worked, it always made me less scared, it always helped me fall asleep.
Me: <3 <3 <3
Me: I’ll always be here, curled up next to you, scratching little words of love when you need them most.
Her: I know.
Me: L-O-V-E. Y-O-U. C-H-R-I-S-S-I-E.
Her: L-O-V-E. Y-O-U. C-A-T-H.
(Go scratch/tickle/trace a word or two of love onto the back of someone you love. Let the words linger a moment. Then hug them hard, for punctuation. Repeat as necessary.)