Now that has a nice ring. (Arrow points to the heading) It’s 5 syllables- like “dearest Jessica.” (Dearest Anitra) You two are immensely dear to me. When I imagine you, I feel whole – you (erased and rewritten) bring life force and unity (erased and rewritten) and harmony to my sometimes fragmented feeling mind + body.
I took your advice, dearest. On a bench, in the park I write to you. It is clarifying to write letters to ones you love (arrow point to) + You have known this all along! With you I am most myself + can say anything. (Are all the pluses a red cross? A cry for help?) The flow is there. I thank you for this.
It is grey. The rain is coming, “they” say. A few stragglers at the park. Those who did not want to stay in b/c in was too dark inside w/o light streaming in windows. (Back in Brooklyn we resided in a basement apartment. Much of the time, the light barely made it through the windows in the morning as a sign to get up. I had the feeling of a bear sleeping in. Even the baby seemed to slumber more soundly. However, although the space had ample light dimmers, the sun cannot be replaced. A bring sun-filled sky today below zero.) To get air. I like to think that those who venture out in grey days feel like I do, Moody and unable to do anything but sit. (It is so important for me to get out every day, regardless of weather. The baby needs it too. “There's no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing,” said Maria Montessori. What did you wear to meet death? Was it your layers of thrift-shop clothes? Lace underwear and leather coat? You must have been cold, sitting waiting for the train till two. What do you wear to die, Maria?) Be. To look around + to feel within.
But I can only do this because I am not a mother. Alan was up early- he became a “soccer dad!” He was horrified that he’s now (written twice, layered) your run-of-the-mill American “soccer dad.” Sophie joined a soccer team for 5-yr-old girls and Alan was helping to coach. (Ali is taking karate at a dojo I knew growing up. A great space of learning where there is a three tier learning system- the sensei/gray-haired weathered black belt, two high schooled black belts/teens who have practiced for over 7 years, and young teens/preteens in training. Called, “Eye of the Tiger,” I have a feeling Ali tried it as she connected the place with the seventies song. She wants to try tap after our six month commitment is through.)
I thought I would draw some pictures of what is around me – Recall when we did that in the Bosco? It was one of my favorite activities and if I remember right, you liked to sit in the forest and listen + take notes as well. (The last time, I laid down feeling the earth under my skin, much like you at your mother’s grave. I looked at the sky listening to the rhythm of cicadas. I found one’s shell. It glistened like gold and drew me to it. We observed it in the group. One consciousness hung onto the branch while the other broke through its back. I can only imagine you flying leaving the rest behind.)
It is raining now full effect. I am indoors. I like reading your annotations to feminist texts- not just because I learn about the texts- but because a part of you I didn’t know before is revealed to me. It is special to be able to see your thoughts become articulate and to learn with you. With writing, comes the understanding, no? (This is my hope and aim. See and be with you again. See the flow of letters, the twists and turns and be with you again this very moment. Re-live.)
Writing to you today Tereza has been grounding. (For me as well, in the rewrite.) I did not do anything else. No ptg. No pressure to paint. (This is the art, nothing, just dialogue. I go to continue with the family now that Jonas's nap is over.) And not it is time to shower + get ready to have dinner with Alan + Martha Rosler!
I found head space, thanks to you and your brilliant idea of going to the park. Before the rains come. I love you with all my heart.
Yours, Anitra (the dot on the i circled.)