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Oct 2017
Dear Lynda,                                                           ­                                                                 ­            Nov.8, 2001
I am sitting here, Thursday evening and have decided to write you a love letter.  
Maybe you will receive this letter at a time when you need to hear the reminder that I do love you and I have for over 35 years.  
Even during those years when I was pretty mean and called you names but I know you forgave me a long time ago.
     Thank you Lynda for never giving up on life.  God/fate/genes/self-pity/chemical imbalance or who knows what dealt you with many years of depression and you never let it win!
    I love that you are aware of the joys, quirks, injustices, wonders, tackiness, miraculousness, agony, humanity and inhumanity of this soap opera we call life.  
You may not know why you are here but you always keep your mind open in order to catch a glimpse of a clue.  
Keep seeking.  
Keep learning.  
Keep experiencing.  
Keep loving.  
Keep on keeping on.

     Dare to love yourself.

     You are still here and you are just fine.  
You really are doing good.  
One life time to live is a gift too precious to take for granted.
     Lynda, I love that you have always been introspective.  
You have begun a project without knowing the outcome but always believing it to be regarded as a sacred duty.
     Never doubt that you are special.  
Never suspect that you aren't less than awesome!
     I love you, Lynda and I will learn to love you more as the years go by.  
You will do many good things and I am patting you on the back in advance.  
You possess an irreplaceable essence of uniqueness juxtapositioned with a most common simple humble low maintenance bologna on white bread life.
     I love you, Lynda and I love that you love yourself enough to read these words.
     I love you when you are too ******* yourself.  
I love you when you dwell on your problems.  
I love you when you ***** up and take the blame and eat the **** sandwich and face the music and learn the hard way and I love you when you get back up, when you swallow your pride, when you face your fear, when you accept the truth and when you are left with nothing to believe in or nothing left to feel.  
I love you despite everything and especially because of it.
     I love you, Lynda.
                                                          ­                                      Thank you for being me,

Lynda Kerby
Written by
Lynda Kerby  Kansas
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