open letter week

http://www.lastmomonearth.com/2012/06/open-letter-week-letter-to-girl-at.html

Dear MKT,

I saw a picture of you.  You were younger than me, an age for you that is hard for me to wrap my head around.

You were pretty in a familiar kind of way.  I searched for myself in your face and was disappointed when I found very little similarity.  I hope to be like you someday.

There are pictures of you with friends, with your husband.  I am jealous.  I don't think it's fair that they got to choose you.  I was born into it, expected to love.  As a young child, this is something one may resent.

If we were children together, I would have braided your hair.  We would have been lake friends and climbed on rocks smelling of moss and pine.
Mini scrapes on our legs after a day acting as mermaids.
Sun-kissed skin and hair.

Later we would have written letters with first accounts of first loves, me feeling a little envious of the boys taking the place of late night phone calls.
Never censored, we would laugh with gremlin faces and wear over-sized shirts for pajamas, asking questions and telling all.

At your father's funeral, I would have stood, scared and awkward.  My own tears flowing, putting myself in your place.

Once a year through college we would visit.  I would tell you how beautiful you have become.   You would tell me how hard it has been.

I would have chosen you to be my best friend, but when it comes to this letter, I do not know how to talk about us as adults.

Your grace, understanding, compassion, knowledge.

Would you want to see me now?

You had such faith in me.

You know me better than I know you.  The memories you have go further back: you remember when I was born, I remember wiggling off your lap, embarrassed to be so loved.

In older years I watched my mother curling your hair.  Your eyes were closed.  You missed being touched, and relished, like the monkeys we are, being groomed.  You seemed so human I wanted to cry.

(Thoughts of us together as children, braiding your hair....)

This is my apology for being the youngest and late to the game.
For not being the friend I wish I had been had circumstances been different.
For being the boy in "The Giving Tree" while you, the Tree, gave all.

You are rooted deep in my bones.
That is unshakable.
And despite not choosing you,  I would have never wanted anyone else.  I am lucky.
You were loved and continue to be loved everyday of my life without you.
And I loved you, so much, when you were in it.

Just thought you should know.

Love Always,
Your granddaughter

Patti Smith gets it

"it is said that children do not distinguish between living and inanimate objects; I believe they do. A child imparts a doll or tin soldier with magical life-breath. The artist animates his work as the child his toys." -Patti Smith

"Discovering a New Fear, a Conversation"

Woman: I've discovered a new fear.

Man: What's that?

Woman: The fear of turning off the TV.

Man: Okay.  I get it.  I'll turn off the TV.

Woman: It is even on when it's on mute and I'm in the the shower and you're working on your computer.

Man: Okay, turn it off.  We'll listen to music or something.

Woman: No, see, now your think I'm attacking you.  That's not what I was doing.  I keep the TV on all the  time.  When you are not here, the TV is still on.  I keep it on when I walk the dog for Christ Sake. When I turn it off it's a bold decision.  I turn it on (snap) just like that....the minute I walk through the door.

What am I afraid of?

Man: I don't think it's a fear thing.  It's a habit.  A bad habit.

Woman: I've thought about this.  It's not like a fear of being along.  I love being alone in the quiet sometimes....often actually.

Man: So you want me to leave you alone.

Woman: That is not what I'm saying.  What I meant was....usually when I am in a situation where I find myself alone in the quiet, I think it's peaceful and nice.

Man: Hippie

Woman: Okay.  It must be a fear.  It's compulsive.....and my default emotion IS fear.  My compulsion to keep a background running at all times is my immediate way of keeping the fear at bay.
But what am I afraid of?
Turning the TV off?
The silence I cherish?
Getting actual true artistic thoughtful work done?  Committing to that?
...Oh shit.

Man:....What?

Woman: Am I afraid to actually get work done?  Like, real true to life true to art work?  Am I just delaying my fear of that failure?  Of failing at the thing I have wanted my whole life?

Man: I think you're just lazy.