i love you


    
    London, 1978
    Blake's Hotel
    
    Dear Abby,
    
    Well you are barely two years old, and you may have some trouble understanding what I am going to tell you now, but, here goes!
    Today, your Dad traveled across the Atlantic Ocean at twice the speed of sound. It took only three hours to fly from New York City to London! Can you imagine that?
    I know; you can't. But maybe this might help you some. Just before getting into the airplane, which is long and sleek like an arrow, I turned towards the morning sun (and towards London, where I was about to go), and I shouted at the top of my lungs:
    
     abby, i love you !!
    
    And then the airplane — roaring and soaring and flying twice as fast as my voice would carry — flew me to this place so far away, and, here I am!
    Looking at my watch, sitting in this rock 'n' roll hotel called Blake's, I notice that I have been in England almost three hours — that's the same length of time it took the Concorde airplane to bring me here.
    And so I will now throw open these large glass doors (creak, creak) which face towards the West, and towards the sun which set only a few moments ago behind the murk and gray these Londoners call "sky," and I will listen very, very carefully...
    Can you guess, Abigail, what words I'm waiting to hear, falling down so faintly from the sky, having followed me across the ocean at just half the speed of the gleaming, speeding Concorde?
    Can you guess, my darling daughter?
    Can you guess?
    
        
    
07/06/78 bhotel, ac
    
DR. MARKLE, DO YOU REALLY WANT TO SEND A MESSAGE THIS LONG AS A TELEGRAM?
    
ANGELA CHANDLEY, 
RECEPTION.
    

 


 All original material copyright © Gilbert Scott Markle. All rights reserved.