Dear You,
I can’t remember when I last wrote.
It’s been raining for weeks, day after oppressive day — gray.
My head is saturated, a sponge of moss, leaves and debris.
Walking from door to car seems a great effort. The days
run together, each punctuated with dinner, drink, dessert.
Sleep, really, is a form of dessert, except that the dreams
are mean and vivid. Mornings are coffee sweet, a swirl
of hope and cream.
What’s new? The world keeps dying, and reviving.
My eyes have swollen shut, in what may be a
symbol of “seeing” too much and not enough.
Some days — in light rain moments — I walk along
the river and see its end. When I blink, somewhere
to my left and in the distance, the river bends and
the water rolls on. Isn’t everything in some
anonymous distance?
Even the ducks, paired off and paddling,
look soaked and done in.
Yesterday at the grocery store, I ran into a woman
I know just a bit. We chatted briefly, easily, in that small
way that says nothing in words and everything in tone.
Her name is Joy and that sounds like an opening for
an easy life. But this time I saw in her eyes a wound
of some sort, and liked her more because of it.
I’ve never been one of those ‘girls weekend’ kind of
women who gather in packs, boozy and cackling.
While I might like that kind of easy banter I
was never asked or found a way to want it.
Instead, I am the woman in a clutch of quiet and
many pauses. I’m looking for that wound, for proof
of a deeper hurt. But I’ve missed out, haven’t I?
In searching for shadow I’ve lost the chance for light.
Oh, maybe it’s just January.
The rain won’t stop. Gutters are rushing, and damp
seeps into every pore. Wet has worn my finish to expose
all the ugly gray sadness inside. It’s too much, this letter
that says things not yet fully formed.
You, faraway friend, are a dear pen pal
and a source of quiet, endearing joy.
Love,
Drew
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It's Thankful Thursday.
I’ve been thinking of friendship and my gratitude for penpals, those trusty confidants with whom I share dreads and desires, longings and leaps. A faraway friend indulges and encourages, listens, nods, and responds. I am grateful for the steady presence, the willingness to open the envelope again and again.
And You, Dear Reader: What are you thankful for today?
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