A Letter From Philip

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Dear Jellie,

My dad says I'm not very good at throwing because I'm so good at waiting for people to throw to me. And because I'll be trying my hardest to catch this hopeful metaphorical ball, to have someone's back, I've never put the same effort into throwing. Because the fate of my throw is in someone else's hands then. He's never said about the point that is missing. No one seems to throw to me, so I can't show that I can catch. Jack, Andy and Peter are all my best friends but they don't throw to me, and I know why. They just don't know that, given the chance, I would catch. But this is me throwing something to you, because I don't think you'll throw it to me.

I really like the way your smile smiles. I just think you should know that.

I don't think you mean for it to be so spectacular but it looks like the fireworks show my mum and dad took me to last year. There were pink fireworks and blues ones. And yellow ones too. Not that your smile is colourful. Not literally. But it is. To me. I know it is to everyone you come across, too, but you shine brighter than the sun and I want you to believe what I believe. That you shine brightest through my eyes.

Sometimes in English when you're working, I look at you. It is true that your lovely face and hair control my eyes' wishes, but it's just the way you are.

I don't know if anyone has ever explained the way you are to you. I hope they have. But I hope I can tell you in the best way.

Because you do everything in the best way.

You always say hi to me before lunch when we pass each other and you always ask to be my partner in English when you don't have to. You don't make me feel silly for it either. You tell me the funniest jokes and you laugh at mine. And you're never mean. Not ever.

I watched you with everyone else when you performed your piano piece in assembly and the song you played was exactly like the expression on your face. I don't know if you meant for it to be that way. But it was everything nice in the world. I like it when you play piano. You're really talented.

I just think you're really nice.

Love,

Philip

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This letter is related to this short story! In my mind, Philip modified bits of this as he got older but never the meaning would never be changed!

Jokes & Pianos,

The Girl in the Moonlight.