CARRIE, summer 2016

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from: misscarraway@gmail.com
to: dragonrider1412@gmail.com

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Dear Dave,

So you’re going to Burkina Faso next! Who would’ve thought?

I can tell you Jon didn’t. He thought you would stay home for good this time. Don’t worry, your brother  will get around. You know that. 

He’s at work right now, and I’m here in the car waiting outside Michael’s school. Your favorite nephew has had trouble eating at all lately, so if he doesn’t eat anything by noon, I’ll take him home. Don’t worry. We’re on it, as usual. At least we’re trying to.

I suppose I could’ve gone home and done the laundry in those three hours, but you know how it is—sometimes your body, your mind, they just shut down. 

And maybe it’s also because I finally made the decision regarding how to draw again. And here was my chance. 

Even though there’ll be consequences. But there’s always something more sensible you can do than what you really feel like doing, until you die, right?

Yes, I’m going to do it. I’m going to finish the story I started over 10 years ago—pencils, inks, texting and even coloring, though I know nothing about colors. But I’d like to learn, especially watercolors. 

The most difficult part was accepting that this is as good as it’s going to get.

I guess I always felt that if I were to go back to drawing, I needed at least an afternoon for myself every single day. Can you believe that? 

Of course, it doesn’t work that way, especially if you’re pushing 40.

If you have kids with diagnoses and whatnot, and you’re supposed to make some money as well, and you have to decide if you want to own 10 % of something or 100% of nothing—because I’m not going to get a free afternoon until I’m dead. Not the way things have played out. 

I get maybe five minutes here, half an hour there, if I’m lucky. And that has to coincide with having the energy, the headspace, and a little real space to sit in— like now in my car with my sketchpad. 

So that’s what I’m going to do, in bits and pieces, like the rest of my life.

I think someone else has been here before, actually. Maybe I shouldn’t compare myself like that, but I think it’s a good comparison. You know Anne Frank’s diary, right? 

We read it in school. I remember something about her only being able to write her diary 30 minutes a day because someone else in their hiding place had to use her room, something like that. 

But she managed to do pretty well, didn’t she? I mean, at least until the Gestapo caught herf family, put them in a concentration camp, and she died. 

You probably think I’m being morbid as usual, but I thought a lot about her example. She was so young when she died, but she managed to accomplish so much. 

If I can do half as good as her, relatively speaking, amidst much better circumstances, I won’t complain. 

I hope that makes sense; it does to me. 

Stay safe. And keep fighting the good fight.

I will take care of the home front.

Hugs, Carrie.

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End of Renaissance – part four

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Cover photo by Aliya Amangeldi on Unsplash

Anne Frank diary photo by Dessidre Fleming on Unsplash

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51-090424

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Song: Renaissance – “A Song for All Seasons“

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