She trimmed the frayed paper with scissors, and the pages were covered with her feminine, lovely handwriting.She wrote of mundane, everyday things aro...nd school and her house, and it made my heart ache with sadness. She carefully avoided mentioning anything about my past idiocy - idiocies? - and the tone of her letter was deliberately neutral.I read it three times in a row, and put it carefully in my desk drawer for safekeeping. I pulled out a spiral notebook of my own, and I began my letter. "I don't think I'm strong enough to get it lifted out of the crap it's buried under," I said.She said I should just take a 3-iron and knock the shit out of it."Keep your head down, but make sure it doesn't bounce back and brain you," she said with a laugh in her cute French accent.A laugh was better than nothing.I hit it as hard as I could but I only managed to move the ball about 50 yards. It wasn't the shot I envisioned when I swung but at least I was on the fairway.Amelie was laughing at me. More

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