Lathe's Letters: Aldrum (Patreon)

Al,

I do hope you are still the type that helps each poor soul you see, that what happened to me didn’t sour the act for you. If you aren’t that type anymore, I don’t even know who it is that I’m writing to.

My large and furry friend, I do hope that you are still topside. I hope you are bathed in warm sunlight each and every day, and not back beneath the rocks that held you all those centuries. I hope you are still somewhere you can see the stars.

I hope you are still standing tall somewhere, our tiny wizard perched uncertainly on your shoulder. I hope you are twirling our dancer until she’s blue in the face and laughing so loud the whole village can hear. I hope you are getting lost with our shepherd, and grumbling with our old man the whole way. Something about how your knees aren’t what they used to be, I’m sure.

I hope you’re still our Al. You were always so steady. So sure in what you were. I hope you’re still smacking their hands away from unprotected valuables. It wouldn’t be fair if you only stopped doing that once you couldn’t do it to me.

I hope you’re still as easy as the wind and as stubborn as the universe. I hope the world has not made you into something smaller, or someone less kind.

I hope you’re still making wishes.

Pass on the good word of stars and wandering to the next folks you pick up to help. For me.

Never change.

Good night.