Two weeks ago, on a rainy Saturday, I curled up in a chair and wrote letters. Quite a few in fact. I wrote one for Korea and one for Carolina. I wrote one for Afghanistan and one for Colorado, Idaho and Washington. There is a nice stack for Oregon and even one for Alaska. They are all sealed and sitting on my desk. I keep telling myself that I've just been too busy to drop them in the mail, but today I realized that was a lie.
I thumb through the pile and trace the carefully written names. I don't have to break the seals and re-read the letters to know the thoughts I penned. I shared a few secrets, braved a few dreams, and whispered a few hellos and even a couple goodbyes. But the words I wanted to share have been shattered, nullified, outdated over these last two weeks. I am amazed at what has changed over what feels like just a few short days.
The sun was out and it seemed like a waste of a last remaining day, not to walk. So I braved a walk with the dog down to Blockbuster. The plan was to go dancing tonight, free lessons at one of the churches, and I figured the more the merrier. But as I flipped through the names, to send a quick invite, my enthusiasm fell. It seems that all the names are for people who don't live near by. For people who don't understand the sheer joy and the utter pain of living in Alaska. So I closed my phone, raised my chin, and took to barking at the dog instead.
You see, it is hard to be here, but here is my home. And yes I left part of my heart with you, but in some strange way I've found the peace I have been searching for.
I tried to share what I'm going through. I've tried to explain why I shift like sand. I knew I couldn't say it out loud, so I tried to write it. And now, now my words have sat for two weeks collecting dust on my desk, while life continued. And those words, so thoughtfully and painfully written, are now outdated. And it makes me so sad that perfectly wonderful cards have been wasted on my words, and you'll never see them.
My words will never be read.
It would be too hard for either of us. Too misunderstood.
But I tried.
That's what counts right? The trying, not the failing.
2 comments:
i'm not sure a post like the one you made is legally fair. i mean, it's rather full of intrigue and possibly some post-hypnotic suggestions. it's like telling a kid santa is bringing presents tomorrow and then explaining that santa was hit by a 747 on the way to your house so he won't be coming this year or the next. so the moral of the story is don't throw any letters away and 30 years from now you can open them and be surprised.
PS you are brave and honest and changing everyday (and it sounds like that's a good thing).
grace and peace lady
i bought a card months ago that said, i'm being brave...except for the sobbing...i'm being brave.
and i was going to send it to oregon, or washington, but in two weeks, you're right, everything has changed. And now, i feel like you're the only one who gets the sobbing, and the brave.
And my words get caught in my throat all the time, sitting on the couch, and so i choke them back with blackberry wine, or tunafish, and wonder how to share with anyone anymore.
and then i turn on music real loud, and sob.
i'm being really brave.
except for the sobbing.
really brave.
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