Roots: Pulling Them Up & Putting Them Down

Aidan has kept all of our e-mails. Awhile ago I asked him to send me the bundle of them. It was amusing to read over the earliest ones. We were doing our very best to flirt with our words. Much is lost in an e-mail. You simply can't replace face to face interactions. I wanted to share one of our first notes to one another. Note: Aidan lived in the same duplex as I did.

Me to Aidan:

. . . I'm sure you are sitting right next door as I am
writing this. I'm also sure you saw me coming in. This
is so weird. I am typing a message to you, from a few
feet away. It's a strange concept, but I'll get over
it.
I just wrote a really great exam, picked up my history
essay which I got an A on, and I am very- giddy.
That's a good word to describe it.

I just thought of something that could potentially be
embarassing for myself. When I am, say, singing at the
top of my lungs, which I do very often, can you hear
me? Or maybe, when I yell at my brothers? That would
be something. If that's the case, then hey, I will
forever be comfortable in your presence. After that,
nothing I could do could possibly be as embarrassing.

~JO

His response:

Well, it's only 1 wall... Ya, I've heard you... Of course nothing to
cause me to cringe. yet... I'm supprised I haven't had any of you
knocking on our door asking me to shut up sometimes... My roommates
tell me to all the time ;-)

a.