You were distracted and depressed because you were stuck in a relationship that no longer worked. I was elated to have found the love of my life after years of wandering and loss. I careened in reckless abandon, not noticing your lack of enthusiasm.
Some things stand out with clarity. The tingling tangible fragments of a lucid dream. A clingy phone conversation on Labor Day.
You came to me seeking happiness and relief. But you can’t bank on others for that or save it for when you need it. No matter how happy I am I cannot give you my happiness or make you happy.
Time passes and things end. In the end it’s not the time that matters anyway.
I believed bliss would sustain us. Unreasonable and unrealistic as it turned out, I had grand dreams of us together on retreats, sharing shamanic journeys, healing sessions, sacred teachings - longing to expand and enhance each other through shared experiences. But the reality is all we could manage was sneaking around for a few hours every month or so.
I thought I would be content with this and go with the flow - biding the time and growing content. I watched days gently give way to months - believing we were shedding cares when really we were racking up regrets. Now I know that dreaming is fantasy, that fantasy is illusion and love is illusive. When I wake I find that all I have left are sentiments of you.
The air conditioner rattles then falls silent. I only register the noise it makes when the silence grows. I feel the cool breeze flutter through the vents and sit chilled in its emptiness.
The letter is written with a calligraphy pen on creamy thick unlined paper. My eyes move through the words and register the date, October 1979. I notice some dappled and yellowed blotches. What are they? How long had they been there?
I still cannot believe you decided to go. What draws you back to the grey, the dirt, the noise, the rush? Surely there are better things to aspire for? What a waste of a lifetime. I know you chase your dreams yet the dream is so sweetly realized here. Here we have our serene place in the sun - absolute and absorbing.
Since you left we moved south - away from our beloved mountains and closer to the sea. Where the air is tinged with salt and we eat the fresh catch of the day.
Today I watched a young coyote lope down the driveway, cutting through our backyard. I didn’t even know they lived here. I remember hearing their howls late at night in the canyons of our red rocks. I recall the crystalline air blowing over the ledge we sat on to watch that moonrise long ago.
I am writing this as the skies darken outside, fading in deepening shades of blood orange into murkier purples. This is the magic hour for me - reflecting and reading - the world melting away into wondrous ideas. At times a phrase is so delightful I have to walk around for a bit, allowing it to settle and enjoying its imagery. One of these made me think of you. “Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass - it's about learning to dance in the rain.”
The noise of the neighbor’s dog barking in the backyard, hearing him tear through the fallen leaves brings her back to the room. How would her life have been if she had sent him this letter? But the present held no answers and the cooling air continued its lazy circulation.
In time I would fold the letter away. Place it back in the envelope. Place the envelope back in the box. Return the box back in the bag. And lock the bag in the trunk. I will cover it with layers of clothing and test the lock one final time. For now I just sit for a moment - the noise of the dog's barks fading into the day’s afterglow.
