A letter for a letter

It's time we re-introduced men writing letters to their close and dear friends. So I asked Jacob Summers if he would write a letter for a letter, in the style of old.

To my dearest friend Jacob (

A4T *with* Jacob Summers

),

They say “absence makes the heart grow fonder”—and so I begin this letter with a Haiku I wrote for you after we returned from being absent to present friends. Your word—a metaphor of a peacock in his glittering glass armor vs a man in his well worn metal armor—reminded me so much of our times in the Army together—weaving ammo pouches, pockets, and medical kits to our battle rattle and ensuring straps were secured just right—that I felt it only correct to express it in verse.

Strength is showing heart.

Shield high, armor set just right.

Worn with care and love.

As with the armor we once wore and pouches we once attached, there are layers of meaning woven into the words. Each line reminds me of the friendship we shared through our years of Service. Each line reminds me of the friendship we now have again—for my fondness towards you has grown much in our decade’s long absence.

Leaning on each others strengths at times of weakness, both through physical challenge and emotional stress—you have always shown a remarkable heart underneath the strength of body. Never one to laud those traits above those within your sphere of empathy—yet never one to shy away from the hard truths and challenges. Willing to let down your shield and open your heart when you needed me in return. I feel safe as a friend—knowing you are both strong enough to aid in carrying my burdens if needed and trusting in me enough to receive the same in return.

You provide a shielding presence with a stature far greater than that of just your physical being—for your emotional and spiritual bodies stand taller than any Ice Giant could ever wish to dream. Always have you been willing to lift your shield-arm high for others—while trusting that the armor we wove would fit just right, securing your heart and body within the unseen safety of our friendship. An armor, unlike that of those glittering peacocks—which may shine so beautifully and refract the light just so—yours is one that has been dented and scraped through years of practiced use. As with the well worn metal armor of a true man of work, you embraced the knowledge that it takes more than one to put on that armor correctly—else you risk chafing the body and exposing more than just the heart to threats.

Thank you for those years of mutual trust as we ensured each other’s armor could be—snug, yet supple while remaining strong and flexible. You have worn that armor for years now—I can see from a far—with many new scratches and dings, yet you have grown even further into its movements. You have made that armor and shield into a part of you—not because of some lofty ego or dreams of grandeur, but because of an unrelenting desire to love and care. Yet, I know the burden of thinking you must always wear that armor—must always hold that shield aloft—must always sacrifice alone.

Hogwash! We have become stubborn mules in our years—not remembering we have each other—always willing to take up the call, help loosen or even take off the armor. Thank you for welcoming me back into your life and not letting another decade pass—accepting my offer to reunite, even if through screens of glass. I eagerly await our next reunion. Be well and hold your circle close.

Your friend and brother,

~Nick Paro

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