I sat and stared at the paper in my hand. Somehow the impossible was happening. A young woman penned her thoughts and I was able to answer them.

I reread her letter. And with each reading it was as though her image in my mind became clearer. I could see her sitting here, at this desk. I could see her with a small kerosene lamp sitting here. Putting her thoughts to paper.

As I sat here I felt a closeness to her. As though the times that separated us had disappeared.

I brought out the parchment and picked up my pen again. I poured my heart and soul into the flowing ink. I wrote of how I felt a connection between us. Of how her thoughts and words filled me. About how I too longed to be able to sit with her and to be able to look across the table and touch her hand.

I sealed my letter in an envelope and pasted another green Washington on it. When the post office opened that morning I was there and dropped my letter into the same slot as before.

I went home, and waited a week before opening the last drawer.