Dear Elizabeth

Just a note to say that we are having unseasonably warm weather, the cats are restless, I am off work as it is Columbus Day, and thinking, that is what I do when I have time to do it, thinking of what a fine human being you were. You wanted to give money to that homeless man and his dog when you were nine and we passed them on the way to school every day.  You were making things for your friends as soon as you learned how to make things, like pillows.  Your to do lists were full of items that you wanted to give to your friends, or to your boyfriend.

But besides your generosity, and open heart, you were funny, and you loved to laugh, and we had some good times watching movies together.  I wonder what you would have thought of Ryan Gosling's banner year.  I wonder if you would have defended Clooney's dud movie.  It is a little game I play when I think of you.  What you would have made of this and that that has happened since you died.

The tears have not dried.
Posted by on

1 comment:

Please leave a comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
How Dina Aunty relished her memories. Mummy and Daddy were the same, talking about their yesterdays and smiling in that sad-happy way while selecting each picture, each frame from the past, examining it lovingly before it vanished again in the mist. But nobody ever forgot anything, not really, though sometimes they pretended, when it suited them. Memories were permanent. Sorrowful ones remained sad even with the passing of time, yet happy ones could never be re-created—not with the same joy. Remembering bred its own peculiar sorrow. It seemed so unfair: that time should render both sadness and happiness into a source of pain.

> From A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry