Dear Freddie, so I got your letter. San Francisco — amazing. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write back. ‘There are life’s natural heroes and then there’s you.’ Your words. You always believed somewhere deep in you that there is a coward. I wish I had told you that’s not true. Because you leaped, while I stayed. Feet first into the unknown. Why should I have expected anything less than fearlessness from you? But I am not as brave as you. I want to write and say I’ll be there. I’ll get on a plane, I’ll come right now, I really do. But I can’t. Not because I don’t love you. I love you, Freddie Lyon. But because you won’t even get this letter, because I won’t ever send it. I’m the coward, Freddie, not you. So, instead, I’m sending this prayer out there. Just hoping somehow you’ll know to come home. Just please come home. Now. Soon. And maybe your courage will make me brave too. Just come home, and I will leap too.