A Random Image

Jett Superior laid this on you on || April 5, 2003 || 12:38 am

The Cosmos giveth and the Cosmos taketh away. No, really.

I had a shit week last week, from a myriad of standpoints. I felt robbed, cheated, waylaid, but not in an ‘ohpoorpitiful meee’ way. Just kind of hangdog, and a little bit broken.

But resolute. Always resolute.

I’m still tired from it, a tad soul-sagged if you will, and I feel like I could sleep a hundred hours if only given the proper linens and a dreamless mindscape.

Last Thursday I got two calls from two people far away but planted firmly in my heart and subconscious. One call was just a recording, machine-crackled and somewhat transparent, but it buckled my knees a tad nonetheless.

“Hey Bit, you there? I thought you’d be around….I’m okay, lots to do, but I’m okay. How ’bout you, you alright? Tell Mom and Dad I called, wouldja? garblegarble

The other call I received and it buckled me too, even though I was sitting down. I had to pull the car over during (en)duration of it, because it withered my insides some. Let’s just say I’m smoothing the wrinkles and that’s that.

Then things started happening this week. Little things, but all stacked up in a neat little drifty pile at my feet, inviting like fall leaves, asking me to kick pleasurably through them. LeslieTheGreat started blogging again, and wrote some very nice things about me. Tuesday I opened the mailbox to find a neat little square of padded envelope awaiting me. Nestled inside were two ceedees and one of them was so gorgeous and so fully addressed my current situation that I listened to it obsessively for two days (and why, oh why have I never heard of Joseph Arthur before now??). There were leather sandals with teeny flowers handpainted on them, there was a the definitive biography of The Clash, there was a Snoopy mouth harp which I delighted in procuring sound from. There was The Boring Angel (a.k.a. Chief Cook And Inane Commenter) leaving the Cycle Sluts From Hell’s “I Wish You Were A Beer” in my inbox.

Then today there was an unexpected check. There was a voicemail from a friend,

“So, I’m holding in my hand the new Alabama quarter (chuckle).

“Anyway, it’s got Helen Keller on the back. I’m thinkin’, ‘Is that the best Alabama has to offer? Helen Keller??’”

The delivery was impeccable, so I went off into one of my mirth fits that leaves everyone guessing at the level of sanity contained in this here noggin.

Then there was the letter, which caught me fully off-guard. Allow me the indulgence of sharing it with you, lengthy as this little rambling thing already is:

Hey Beth….

Maybe you’re surprised to be getting a letter from me. I hope it’s a good surprise, at least. I just wanted to let you know what a dear friend you’ve been to me. You have opened my eyes to different experiences, different people and different attitudes. When we talk, I’m guaranteed an interesting and intelligent conversation.

As you well know, when I first found out that we were going to be working together at the music store I didn’t exactly have a friendship in mind. I thought you were rude and listened to strange music. Somehow I quickly became ‘your own personal Barbara Walters’, making you open up and cry about some very personal experiences in your life. Out of this timid beginning grew one of the most special friendships in my life.

I know I have sort of gone into this before, but you can really never know how wonderful you were when my dad died. You hardly knew the man, yet you and your husband took time out of your busy schedules to come to the funeral. You gave money that I’m sure you couldn’t quite spare to help bury him. Not only that, you stuck around after the funeral while everyone ate and basically trashed my kitchen without looking back. You were the only person who stayed until everyone was gone and you took it upon yourself to clean my kitchen while I used you as my sounding board.

I know that you think this was no big deal, but it was a huge thing for me. That, and you were the only person besides my husband brave enough to tell me when it was time to move on, that I was letting the mourning take over my life. Tough love works, right?

From you, I saw firsthand how hard it is to overcome fatigue to get your dreams to come true. This reminds me that you are one of the few people I know who really understands how important it is for me to get my degree.

I’ve seen you take some hard knocks, ones that would crater other people, in the six years I have known and loved you. But I also saw how you have never given up. Not to mention how you’re always thinking, planning alternatives in case you need a back-up plan.

I miss the days of the music store, when every day we could meet people who lived a handful of miles from us, but in completely different realities than we did. I have to think Marshall County was a more fun place when we were given free reign to cut up with and make fun of people to their faces, all while getting to listen to great music. And we actually got paid for that!

Seriously, Beth, you have been an unlikely and wonderful friend to me. I don’t think that I ever say that to you on the few occasions that we actually have time to talk. You know that I am not an overly emotionally expressive person, but this has been my chance to tell you how important you are to me and thank you for just being yourself.

Your friend,

And I’m all breath-sucked and just ‘wow‘. Everyone should get a letter like that at least once in their lifetime, and I think I’ll take one day soon and clear my schedule so that I can sit in the stillness, pen in hand, and in long, sweeping strokes gift some folks with the knowledge that they are a blessing to me.

So the Cosmos fucks around, removing great chunks at times, but then It turns around and pours something finer and purer, surrounded by pleasant filler, in the jagged spaces left behind. The love you’re looking for doesn’t always come in the forms that you’ve fitted your eyes to see.

I keep learning that, bigger and bigger each time.

2 worked it out »

  1. @feckless 4.5.2003

    it was one bee of a week, wasn’t it?

    i’m trying to remember the last time i wrote an actual letter. those were the days, that’s how long.

    oh check your email?

  2. Angel 4.5.2003

    Wonderful… It’s time for a *few* of us to pick up a pen right with you!


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