by say

Tuesday

Wow, you would be proud of me. I am so lost, and I am writing my way out of a maze of confusion.

You smiled like a silly person. It was jovial! But your eyes were serious, and I loved that. I never told you.

You helped me get through high school. I would go out of my way to see you, we were kindred souls; you said so yourself, and I did not reply, which I thought of later that day and later that month and later now which is too late to reply. I hope you did not think that I disagreed. I am not always present in the moment. I regret this.

When you told me something you would become that, your words would mold to form the sounds that were cleanly appropriate, keys to setting. “Smart bloke, Winston.” That made me incredibly happy.

You loved my writing, so I dedicated my book to you. You told me I should get it published; now I am considering it. Ironic, huh? I didn’t know that you wrote until the end of this summer, you pulled out that drawer of unmentioned potential. Potent. I browsed and skimmed, thinking I would read more, later, later. It was too good, I was ashamed. You said, “No shame. No shame at all.”

You were so excited about everything. It seemed bright, flashy, impractical, romantic, and altogether wonderful. I didn’t tell you this, but I aspire to be just like you. Someone told me that you were fond of giving advice [they said it with some exasperation, but I think also, a little pride]; and I kept all of it in my head. “Tell them politely to fuck off.” “If you look down that aisle and have a single doubt, don’t start walking.” “Life is too short to let other people tell you what to do.” “I’m so very blessed now!”

You wanted to live everywhere! Everything was magic to you, the best thing ever. Then I noticed that it was your interpretations that were magic, as all the other blasé faces passed without stopping to glance at the sky.

That time you ate lunch with me I really appreciated it. I know there was nobody else there, and I thought, I hope I don’t bore her. You told me about J, he is a lady killer. And I’m thinking, yeah, I’m dead. You were the only one I could tell about that, I was 17 and that stuff is generally frowned upon… it’s got a long name that’s taboo and wouldn’t quite apply. You breezed by it, and all of my oddities. Nothing was absurd, you accepted life peacefully. But you did not accept what was wrong, you didn’t take crap. So I knew you were strong, and it wasn’t acceptance born of fear or a desire to please.

Then, on the other hand, I suppose I always treated you like you were delicate. I wanted to take care of you. I hoped you could be a nurse like me, I wanted you to be who you wanted to be. Though in a way, I think you were, perpetually. Exactly. How did you manage that?

You called me, A, and C, among others, your surrogate children, generously I think. I felt a twinge of envy for your actual children.

You could make me stop crying. More amazing yet, I wasn’t embarrassed to cry in front of you.
It’s funny that you were an adult. You were mature yet not above students, and everyone loved you.

You sort of looked like one of us, too. Especially that night that you couldn’t sleep, B and I came upstairs and we said high to you, reclining on the couch, dim light. With your hair in a ponytail and your white nightshirt, I heard that song “Forever Young” and I hoped I could be like that. I actually don’t know how old you were. You found that delicate happy medium, young and old, crisp but mature. You are wonderful. I can hear your laugh, and your slightly wavering voice that always sounded like there was more to say

“you are right, he is unique and wonderfully wonderful! i fell in love with him as soon as he was placed in my arms, and i cried with joy looking at him and holding him for the first time. he is my hero in so many ways. i am blessed, truly.

…

i am sure i will see you before you leave (or we leave), so i refuse to say goodbye at the present moment.”

that's funny, i sort of refuse too.

"please, dear sarah, if you ever need to talk, need a friendly ear or some motherly advice, don't hesitate to write or call. you know i will understand exactly what you are feeling. you and i have struggled/are struggling with many of the same issues. it is very hard, and having someone to listen helps a lot. trust me, please, to lend a hand if you need one.

that being said, i know that you are a strong woman with such a great life ahead of you! relish in your youth and all the opportunities that will come your way to do for others -- it is such a blessing. how i wish i could go back in time and do some things all over again, knowing what i know now about myself and the world. you are going to be a wonderful nurse. someday, i hope to help others in the same capacity. my career will simply be shorter than yours!

sarah, i love you with all my heart. i treasure the poems, the drawings, and the love you have shared over the years i have known you. i hate the thought of going back to w-l and not seeing you in the hallways, but your life has begun, and for that, i am happy."

“i love you, sweetie, so try to remember the following life skills that i only recently learned:

1. when you feel anxious, deep breathe and say to yourself, i breathe in, and i am calm.

2. when you are tense, smile. smiling relaxes 400 muscles in your body, no shit. by next year you'll know the names of all of them:)

3. if someone is stressing you out, smile and stay silent. it will unnerve them and they will hopefully shut up.

4. if someone is being blatantly hurtful to others OR to you, tell them politely to fuck off. this includes the adults you are supposed to respect at all times.

…

6. if it is YOU who feel out of control and are acting like an ass, learn to recognize it and get a hold of yourself by sitting alone for a few minutes so you can collect your maturity. breathe, smile. then return and apologize for being an ass…

7. remember, people cannot make you feel inferior without your permission (eleanor roosevelt, smart as a whip).

8. be the change you wish to see in the world. (gandhi, of course)

and my personal favorite:
9. never, ever, ever give up. winston churchill. smart bloke, winston.

oh my god i have blathered on!
i love you, sarah bee.
nan”

i love you too. past space.