Dear Jon,
It’s me. Again.
I know it’s been five years since we last spoke, and I still can’t get you off my mind. I know we’ve got a history, and I see what you’ve made of yourself. It makes me sad, and proud, and hopeful. Maybe someday we can make it work again, you know? Maybe now, perhaps?
Ah, listen to me… an old softy. But I have to get this off my chest. It’s why I’m writing you. You have to know how I really feel, one last time. If we’re ever going to make this work, I feel like I’m going to have to be the one who is the aggressor. We’ve flirted for years, but it’s never gotten serious. We’re getting old, and I don’t turn the heads like I used to, that’s for sure. It’s been nearly 19 years since somebody nice has given me any jewelry. You remember that big, beautiful ring, but even they collect dust all these years. Nobody remembers it now. Heck, I see kids ready to go to college that don’t even remember that I was a looker in my prime.
You remember, Jon. You were here for some of my glory days. I’m hoping you still remember, and that’s why I have to write this.
Everyday, I look at this big, beautiful house I’m living in by the river, and it’s become this cavern of sadness. I wake up every day, and it’s this mausoleum. People just drive by and shake their heads. They remember the good times, too. I’m talking family, Jon. Family! They can’t believe what a sad place this has become. It’s been in my family for generations, and it’s pathetic the shape it’s in. You should have seen it when my friends from Massachusetts came to visit earlier this year; even then, it felt so empty. Especially in the fourth quarter.
You know about the guy I was seeing. Butch. I know you two were cordial, and I’m happy about that. You were around more, and I loved seeing you, no matter how much it hurt. Butch had some good qualities. He was a little corny, but he cared about me, you know? After those previous two forgettable relationships, I needed that.
These last few weeks have been difficult. Looking back, I’ve been fooling myself so long, and I feel so stupid. I wanted so bad for him to be the one, when all this time, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I have to say that out loud, and you need to hear it. If you don’t, I fear our time will pass for good. Butch and I were officially over Sunday, as I’m sure you heard. But I was done with him months ago.
By that weekend when my Massachusetts visitors came down, I knew. Heck, I was sure the week before on our vacation to Florida, especially at the very end, right before we came back to Knoxville. What an angry trip home that was. I quit saying Hail Marys, Jon.
If I’m honest with myself, I’ve had feelings it wasn’t going to end well with Butch dating back a couple years now. You can’t just let strangers from Oklahoma come into your house and take it over like they own it. I’ve worked too hard to make this a home, and he did that; it was shameful. Then, you should have seen what happened when we headed to Florida the week after! I can’t even talk about it still without tearing up.
Yes, we go back to the same place every other year down there. It’s not on the beach; it’s hot, sweaty and full of rednecks, but for some reason, we had to go. People wear jorts there, for goodness sake. I know you live in that state, and I know you’d love to come home. For years, it looked like it would be a better trip, going to Florida. But Butch just made it worse.
I hope those days are over now. I’m finally free, Jon. And I’m happy. And I don’t know what the future holds, but I no longer have to feel as I’ve felt, like I’ve got to defend Butch and try to make him into something he’s not. I’m reinvigorated! I feel like a champion of life, like I’m rebuilding my life, brick by bri…
Ahh, there I go again.
I have to laugh. He’s brainwashed me so long, that even though I’ve reached the next chapter, I still hear his voice. It makes me shudder, but right now, I feel I’ll always hear his voice without a drastic change.
Which brings me to you, Jon. Again. After all these years. I know you have feelings for me still. You wouldn’t come around so much if you didn’t. You wouldn’t call all our old buddies, some of those guys who helped make those good times great way back then and be trying to get the band back together. I know you look at the old place and you hear about how I’m going to fix her up. $340 million should do it, huh? And all those old friends can come back, Jon. I want them back. I may even NEED them back.
But it means nothing without you.
Every time I see you tip back a Corona, it takes me back to when we were young again. I sit by the television on Monday nights, just waiting to catch a glimpse of that wisp of blond hair, trying to see what color tie you’re wearing, what subtle hints you may drop during the game. It’s always fun to hear you talk about a game, but I know where your heart is. Or, at least, I think I know.
Sometimes, when I lay down at night, I catch myself whispering “Spider 2 Y Banana” and laugh to myself. I have to, to keep from crying.
You’re not getting any younger, Jon. And I may never be what I used to be, but I know with you back in my life, I can be great again! Come on back to me, Jon! I may sound desperate — and I’m not trying to — because I’ve still got a shadow of my pride; all these sad years haven’t taken that from me yet.
We can bush hog that patch of land over in Jeff County that you own, build a nice house, be near your son. Yeah, I know he’s back up here, living close to me, doing well. I’m taking good care of him.
I can even co-exist with Cindy. If you remember, we loved each other once. She’s always loved me. She cheered me on back in our day, back when we were all one big, happy family. Now, in the evening of your lives, it’s time for us to all spend some time together again. Whaddaya say, Jon?
If you aren’t in love with me anymore, Jon, I need to know. Right now. Lay it on the table. Don’t string me along. There are others out there who will love me for who I am. There’s this fella down in Starkville, a little hunchbacked, but he’s got that sparkle in his eye and that smart-aleck wit I love. Then there are a couple of young guys I’m courting — one in Orlando and another in Memphis — that haven’t quite reached their prime, but they’ve got potential.
I’m just jettisoning off everywhere looking for the right man. You know I can’t be alone, after all. I’ve even entertained the thought of Lane again. I know, I know. That one-night stand has taken me years to get over, but he still just knows what to say to the ladies!
Still, they’re all poor substitutes for you.
I’ve heard all the rumors about that dead-end job you’re in now. I know how much they love you, but we all see that company is hemorrhaging money, and they can’t keep you forever. You’re too good for them, Jon. Yeah, sure, you could go back to Tampa, or Indianapolis, or God knows where else if you wanted. But did you really love that, Jon? They made you grimace; I remember that ugly face you made! That’s not my Jonny! Then, they called you names for making it. Uck, I always hated “Chucky.” What kind of name is that? May as well be named Lyle!
No, you were meant for the mountain air. You were meant to talk ball and wear orange and dip Copenhagen and be yourself. We were meant for each other, Jon.
Think about it. You know where I am.
XOXOXO
Love,
Tennessee Football
