Its 5:10am and I am in bed right now writing this letter to you. Please don't spook me. I have a concern that you will. I have always been fascinated with you. With your story. With your what ifs. There are so many what ifs and questions I have for you. There is so much I want you to know about me. Do you know me already? Do you know that I write stories and poems about you? Do you know my son? See, so many questions.
Why this letter? Why now? What's the point? Well, truthfully this is National Novel Writing Month and a group of people around the country are taking on the challenge to write every day focusing on a particular project. I chose to write a series of letters to you. Maybe I will do something with this project besides let it rest here in this blog and maybe I won't. Who knows? It's what I need to do, Mary. Please may I call you Mary?
I am on this journey. It's not new. I have become so stuffed with stories and memories and stuff in my mind. I have been setting the stories free. They weren't serving me anyway. That's why I chose you. Chose you to give my stories to, at least until the end of the month. Maybe I will learn something about you. What would you like me to know about you? O Mary, it's so unfair. I know. I want to know your voice but I am afraid of you speaking to me. I want to know what you look like but I am afraid of seeing your face. Though I think I have been hearing your voice all of my life. Was that you, Mary? Was that you all those times? Calling my name. Calling me over and over. I remember the voice even as a little girl. Even still. I hear it. "Robin! Robin!" You called me Robin. Always a shout. That was you, right? The voice sounds like my mother's but then you would sound like my mother, being her sister and all it makes sense that your voices would sound alike. I had to go to the hospital this year. It was March. The doctor asked me if I ever heard voices. I immediately thought about you but I knew he wouldn't understand so I told him no. "No, I never hear voices." I don't think he believed me but what could he do? "Are you sure? No one calling you when you know you are not dreaming? No voice at all outside of your head?" Again I told him no. I was only supposed to be in that place for three days, Mary but he made me stay a week. Can you believe that? Well, there is more to say about that but we have plenty of time. Right? You will listen won't you? Don't scare me. Why do I think you will scare me? I don't know. The only things I know about you are the things I made up. I made up that you love me but maybe you don't. I even made up that I am your favorite niece. Yep, your favorite one because I am the one who keeps your memory alive. No one else talks about you. Only Grandmommy talked about you. Grandmommy is gone and now it's just me. Maybe you don't like that. Maybe you want me to leave you alone. Am I bothering you? I always think that. That I'm bothering somebody. Isn't that silly? To always think that? I can't ALWAYS be bothering people. But I think that.
Grandmommy said that you left only three days after you were born. Three days, Mary. Did you know that three is my favorite number? Why three days, Mary? We're you ready already? Did you know? Were you angry? Did you want more time? Did you want to know me? Me. Me. Me? I know your life is not about me. Were you in any pain? What happened? Did you know that Grandmommy didn't even know you had left? She didn't even know. Maybe she didn't know because she didn't want to know. You were her first. She was a young mother but she wasn't that young. She was the youngest of sixteen. Did you know that? Did they cry for you when you left? Could you hear them cry? I told you already, I have so many questions.
It's 5:54 now Mary. I need to get some rest but I will be back later on today. I love you, Mary and I'm just going to believe you love me too, okay? Okay.