Dear Ma,
In all this panic about what I didn't know, I went too
crazy and called you "selfish," because I didn't get
some information I'd needed.
Well, we dropped the ball. Not just you: both of us
screwed up. Yeah, you knew more about what was going
to happen, but I didn't press the issue and make sure
I was informed.
I'm very sorry I called you selfish.
I was standing in the kitchen just now, blowing
cigarette smoke out the back door. It's seriously too
cold out there to go outside. It's already below
freezing and may get below zero tonight.
Most nights, this house is cozy. This sofa is RIGHT in
front of a heater.
But tonight, it's so cold, I'm shivering. I'm not
cranking up the heat because that just seems wasteful.
Even though I've weatherproofed the windows, doors,
etc., it's just a really cold night and my heavy
sweater vest, sweats and sweater just won't do enough.
The only solution is to get under the covers with a
pile of cats and dog and snuggle myself to sleep --
just as soon as The Simpsons is over.
Well, I was standing in the kitchen and thinking. I
have a big chunk of brisket, thawing on the counter. I
plan to make burritos with it. Today, I ate cooked
chicken I'd thawed.
It's nearly the end of the month. My food stamps don't
come for ten, more days. Usually, by now, I'm down to:
potatoes, pasta, bread and cereal. That's all.
The freezer's still full of food, honey. I was
thinking yesterday that, even when the food stamps
come, there's nothing I really need, except some fresh
produce.
All I've bought since you've been gone is 2 bottles of
soda pop. I have everything I need here.
The reason I could embroider that scarf for you is
because I have glasses now. I haven't been able to
embroider for nearly fifteen years. Now, I can see.
The pets have food.
I have what I need to start independent radio
production.
I'm not going without anything.
In fact, I bought myself a treat this month. You know
I'd been looking at pad and cork "tune up" kits for my
flute. Well, they cost about seventy dollars. Hiring
someone to actually tune it for me would cost about
two hundred dollars.
I found a real, concert flute on EBay. It's a
Gemeinhart: a concert, rather than a band, flute. I
bid on it, last minute. I got it for eighty two
dollars, including shipping. It's on its way from
Arizona.
I will be able to play along with the holiday music
specials on public tv. I'll be able to play to my
records and tapes.
So, here's the thing.
You've been very good to me. And I do understand and
appreciate that.
Now that I'm not panicing anymore, I can see beyond my
terror and see how much you've changed my life for the
better.
I mentioned the tangible things. But there are dozens
of intangibles, too. Just the warmth of your presence,
the silly jokes, your nerdy fussing, your glee at the
simplest things.
I felt so seperated from you during this present
crisis. I was in deep grief.
But, now that the ickiest part is past, and you're
coming through ok, I can feel you again.
The cold binding I felt in my chest is loosening. I
feel warmth around my heart again. You put that there,
Ma.
I was literally disabled by my fear this past week. I
went back to a survival mode of bleak isolation. I
became bitter and vicious.
Like I was before you ever met me.
It was familiar, true. But it was miserable and small
and hard.
Now that I can feel you again, I'm relaxed and calm
and hopeful and happy again.
I may not be lost without you, but I sure got confused
there, for awhile.
Ma, you're the best thing to come along in my life in
a very long time. And I love you beyond reason.
Now, take very good care of yourself for me. I need
you back here healthy and ready to resume this
ridiculous dance I got you mixed up in with me.
Please: be well.
All my best,
Ma
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