(When we last met)
Dear Mojo,
I miss you. To be honest, I feel it rather unkind of you to have left without so much as an air kiss goodbye. No words, no warning, not even a note left under the pillow . . . Where did you go? One day we were playing with our favorite crayons together happily creating a color-blocked background for, well, something and the next . . . nothing, nada. Not one thing. Mojo, please come back. I promise to let you play with anything you want . . . and I'll even let you drink all my iced coffee . . . just come back to me. I'll be the one sitting in the studio with a clean apron . . . waiting . . ..
Kristin xo
