I have wanted to write to you for a while and now that I can, well, I
don't know what to say. I hope you are okay. That you are taking more care
of yourself, getting some rest, sleeping in when you can. You haven't seen
where I live now. It is quiet here. I can think. I can be still and know
that this fucking life is precious. It is. In my yard, there are
flowers—magnolias, tulips, roses. And trees—pine, pin oak, maple, dogwood.
Can you believe it? I know, after that tiny flat. In my house, there is
half a triple chocolate cake. I still bake. In my head, there is every
song by Cave. Sad Waters and all the rest of them. Mercy. Yes, I still
need him, like everyone does, even if they don't know it. Please let no
one else die for now. Today, I will sit under the pin oak and pull petals
from the flowers, one by one, and maybe you will love me too.
- - -
Read her story.
W i g l e a f