To Whom It May Concern:
You’re late.
I grew tired of waiting, so I attempted to find you. It was an honest effort, I promise. I searched for you at every poetry reading in town, my voice warbling in breathless anxiety that you were there, listening. Those cafes abound in shadowed nooks and unlit crannies, and I figured you’d interrupt. You’d step into the gentle light, pull me by the hand into the Wisconsin night, and my poetry would change–instead of finding you, it would keep you.
I even tried scouring the town taverns. I know, I know. Foolish, but it provided me a chance to drink and make a few false identifications. A few doomed trial runs at transforming someone into you, either by changing them or changing me. The blonde girl that claimed to enjoy Faulkner but couldn’t name one of his works…well, I mistook her for you. When she sang in the car, she sounded precisely like you. Except when I closed my eyes, the pitch flattened and the melody soured, and I knew my sight had fooled me. She was a dead ringer, true, but she most certainly was not you.
I’ve tried other places, too. I visited nursing homes with a charity group. Not to seduce unsuspecting seniors, of course. I just figured you were a philanthropist that wanted to help, and that I might just bump into you while I wheeled Mr. Tompkins to dinner. You weren’t there, though. And while I leaned to operate a catheter and relearned to enjoy checkers, Mr. Tompkins died the day before my birthday. At the funeral, I waited for you in the last pew on the left, because I figured you didn’t want me to grieve alone. You didn’t show. I guessed that you had your own heartaches to heal, and that I’d probably see you soon.
At the Cursive concert, I tried finding you in the crowd. You should know that was difficult for me, as I love that band. But I convinced myself you’d be there–after all, we probably like the same music. We’d sit in comfortable silence between car seat conversations and enjoy the music equally. But you weren’t in the crowd, I think, and if you were, I’m quite put out with you for hiding from me. Next time, tug on my sleeve. We’ll stand at the back of the crowd holding hands like teenagers, grinning like children.
If you’re wondering whether or not to find me–well, I don’t blame you. I’m a mixed bag. But I planted a garden for you. I don’t know if you like flowers, but I presumed you’d like daisies. Those are happy flowers, white like a blank page promising a love letter. If you don’t, please don’t worry. I also plainted white lilies, the kind with the speckled throat. When the moon shines brightest, they glow robin’s egg blue. I’d love to cut some for you, you know. You could wear them in your hair, fill a vase and festoon your nightstand. All-in-all, though, beauty deserves beauty. Let me know when you’ll show up, and I’ll have a bouquet ready. I’ll be so ready, you won’t believe it.
If you live in Illinois, Oregon, or Australia, please don’t worry. I don’t have a lot of money right now, but that can be fixed. Such situations were made to change. You can come here, if you like, or I can go there. I’ll stowaway on a ship today, my body trying to catch up to my heart. I’d set sail in an instant. Just give me a destination, and I’ll show up without a suitcase, head filled with hopes and dreams and all the other justifications for living.
Well, there it is. If you’re reading this–good. My letter found you, and you know where to find me. If you’re not reading this…well, okay. I can still make do. I’ll write another poem, buy another drink, attend another concert. I lost an idea of you so many years ago, I know. But nothing is ever lost that isn’t meant to be found.
This is gorgeous. I don’t know how many times I read over something twice because I thought it rhymed, but I couldn’t find the words that matched. Natural rhythm. Really good stuff.
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This was beautiful.
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I absolutely LOVED this, especially the daisies, I agree, they are such happy flowers. I shall read this again when I need a reason to smile
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When you find each other, you will make her very happy because you have a very sweet heart. Love always,
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That is AWESOME. So well written.. so much imagery. I love it. Kudos.
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nice. it’s what goes through all our minds, I suppose. I was just thinking yesterday on the subway, when I locked eyes for a second with a nice looking man, maybe I pass him every day and don’t notice. Maybe I sat next to him yesterday. … we’ll know some day. nice piece.
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Really enjoyed the flow of this
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i saw you on the front page. this was lovely, especially the part about the garden.
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Very very well put. I like this. ryn: Hah! Yes, the life of a young mother with three children is hardly ever relaxing. I do enjoy a bit of quiet after the children have finally surrendered to sleep for the night, though. I imagine that, as they grow older, I will have more opportunities to stop and smell the roses.
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You charmer you. I want bookmark you so I can keep track for a while.
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Testament to your caliber, being on featured yet again. You’re a hotshot. 🙂 And, I wrote one of these a couple years ago (though not nearly so well). You’re more patient than I am, I guess. Done waiting. Closed up tight. WOULD ANOTHER SMILEY BE INAPPROPRIATE
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I love this 🙂
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^^ That was me! wasn’t signed in 😛
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Ooo, I really like this! It’s so interesting that every time I sign in, I see your new entries on the homepage 🙂
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RYN:If you’re interested, I’ll have Boston photos on Facebook when I get back 🙂
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This took my breath away!!!
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This is lovely, really well written. I can feel the longing, the searching. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve bookmarked you to read you again.
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sorry that was me, don’t mean to lurk 🙂
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Beautiful.
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everyone wrote notes about how much they loved this so i don’t need to say it anymore than it’s already been said. too much praise will turn you into an asshole. found you on the front page and i like you. you should feel honored. i don’t like many people.
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cute… hope you find what you’ve lost… 🙂 and ryn- I totally had to look up what portentous meant.. haha. I hope you’re right.
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I love signing in and finding you’ve got a new entry. I really think this is my favourite so far. Keep looking; I’m sure you’ll find her 🙂
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in another world i’d have attempted to turn up. =P
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beautiful.
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Everybody deserves to find theirs. It’s cliche and you’ve heard it a million and one times, but I believe it’s true that you’ll find her where you least expect it, just around the time in which you’ve accepted the idea that you are single and will continue remain single for a long while. It’ll happen randomly, somewhere where you’ll least expect it. Later you’ll joke with her about how things began.
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Good Lord – you have a fan club ! Yea, well , I’m reading too so I guess that makes me one also. 🙂 You had some pretty sweet sentiments here.
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like everyone else- i thought this entry was beautiful. in my past experience, i have found that when you look too hard for something or someone, it often becomes harder to find especially when you have preconceived notions of what that thing or person should be [i.e.- specific wants/needs/expectations] i have found that when you stop putting your focus into the search, for that elusive one, that this is when you actually find what you are looking for. everything happens for a reason and i think when the time is right, the person will find you rather than the other way around! 🙂
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What? You died? YOU DIED. AND NOW SHE WILL NE’ER FIND YOU. Oh no.
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this is an amazing work. it’s something that everyone can KIND OF relate to, but you have your own personal version of it that no one else can say “that’s happened to me too”. It’s gorgeous.
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Internet talk might be nice, however, reality is this Never start a relationship,not even a friendship with a stowaway. if the person says, I have no money now but that will change, WAIT until it changes. Love isn’t about money but it is about shared experiences, and shared responsibilities. Have patience, wait, dont’ stowaway if youcan’t afford to go, then stay and don’t go happiness can be found right where you are if you open your eyes and just look
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Well, SOMEBODY had to tell you. After all, do you want to just read only notes that agree with you?
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Hi itiswelljournal, This entry was a snippet of whimsy. I am not an idiot. I asked for neither agreeable nor disagreeable notes. I hope you know how patronizing your notes were, and how arrogantly you came across. I wrote this five months ago; I’ve no idea why you left this now. You seem considerably more fearful of disagreement than I am; my diary is public, whereas yours is not.
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I am a happy person, complete in and of myself. I do not need your exhortations nor your opinions to stay so. Dance, scream, and love,
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There is so much passion there. I drown in your words. Lovely.
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