This is letter thirteen.

It’s a postcard, really, conveying the spirit that I hope we can each embody whenever we are crossing thresholds into new decades.

It’s a little love note that I’m leaving for you, propped up against the lamp on your bedside table… I will then find my coat amongst the pile on your bed and stealthy, contentedly, slip away from the party (still in glorious full swing) without saying goodbye, but looking forward to when our paths will cross again.

All her life in this world
and all her adventures

had only been the cover
and the title page:

now, at last,
she was beginning
Chapter One
of the Great Story,

which no one
on Earth has read:

which goes on for ever:

in which every chapter
is better than the one before.

– C. S. Lewis