Over the years that I have been writing these
letters they have changed. As my needs change so have these letters. Sometimes
I am on a rant, a lament, a retelling, a mystery, a biography. Sometimes the words just flow other times it
becomes a struggle followed by guilt at just not wanting to say anything.
Sometimes the only thing to say is just a silent scream delivered with
hurricane force. Sometimes my head is just filled with so many things that I
simply cannot find words to express. The Bible mentions this phenomenon so I do
not let it worry me.
All that being said for my benefit not yours…
I did not find the time to Ghost Hunt this
weekend. I logged on to the website but then sat there for a moment trying to
decide which rabbit hole to go down and then logged off. I drove my granddaughter
over to her other grandparents’ house instead.
She got out of the car and walked away without even a backward glance at
me. I sat in the car waiting for her mother, forgotten in her excitement to see
the others. I thought “this should bother me” but I just could not muster any
hurt feelings. She chatters about them all the time. She is excited about them all the time. She
should have grandparents she feels that way about it just is not me. I am the
other kind. The one who is mysterious, eccentric, quirky the one you are
slightly fearful of but curious about. I
have baskets of seashells and other sea critters.
Shelves she will discover
with bones on them and other odd items,
books about pirates and vampires. Rocks
and other earthy things in decorate boxes.
She spends hours with tiny pads of
paper drawing things. We read books.
I had a grandmother who was a grand dame; a
true Socialite, a Matron of the city. My
other grandmother lived on a farm. I did not prefer one over the other. They
were both unique and wonderful, many amazing days and adventures. One
grandfather famous about town the other infamous; it was great! I just wish I
had known to ask them about family history.
My dream last night played out like s movie.
I did not recall even until I tried later to remember the movie I watched. That
is when I realized it was not a movie. I was sitting observing and then as
through a mist I became the lead character except that it was male. But it
starts with a narrative that leads me into the roll. There was a dream sequence
even that explained a bit of my back story. Twice there was a retake. Not
because of a mistake but because of humor. I even remember hearing the director
say “Ok! Great! Bring it in guys we got what we need here! “Laughter, lots of
laughter at the end. I have never had a dream like that before. It still feels
like I shot a scene.
When I was in the summer between 7th
and 8th grades I had signed up to get a weekly educational
newsletter. It would come in the mail every Monday. I remember waiting, for
what seemed all day, for the mail to arrive at about 10:15 on those summer
Mondays. Today feels like. Anticipation envelopes
me.
I must move on to my Artz blog. This week we
celebrate Patience Wright. She was a spy in King George’s Court. She would send
missives back to America hidden in wax sculptures during our Revolutionary war.
How will this day unfold?
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