Pondering The Letter

She walked outside her townhouse into the steamy, misty heat of St. Louis, exhaling and breathing in a mouthful of hot.  It took more energy than she wanted to expend to step into the world today when all she wanted to do was sit in her balcony office that overlooked the forest of trees and ponder the letter she received in the mail yesterday.  

How in the world did a letter that was written for her before she was even born managed to be hidden away on the other side of the country and reach her now? What is she supposed to make of the words etched in ink on the parchment paper, carefully folded and sealed in an envelope? Why the strict instructions to not know the identity of the person who mailed it, not to even know the gender or any other identifying marker except they have been her "benefactor?" This was just a little too much crazy than she wanted to deal with on a day that was promising to fulfill those predictions of global warming, just another St. Louis summer.

She shook her head, pulled down her Mark Anthony Collection sunglasses and sighed, it was too early and too hot for her head to travel down the question trail.  Perhaps her friends she was meeting for morning coffee would tell her to just shut up and accept what the letter said.  She couldn't let it go so easily, it made her feel like her life was being orchestrated and directed by someone else and perhaps her choices were not her own.  What did it mean that her mother decided that this person would be her benefactor and set aside all this money for whatever she needed? She moved around a few times from childhood to adulthood, how did this person find her, was there a tracking device in her dreads?




Comments

Joy Weese Moll said…
Good job taking this horrid weather and converting it to beautiful prose!
July 4, 2012 at 12:42 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Standing On The Side Of The Road

Image
"Standing On The Side Of The Road" I am standing here on the side of the road -  Trying desperately not to be seen It is the middle of your busy day You do not notice me with your latte Guarding against the cold wind- Frozen inside outside walking here and there No mansion or house to put my belongings, no one to care- I am standing here on the side of the road- Not the trash you just tossed away That latte and uneaten muffin, my only meal today Standing here, shivering in the city alone No one to shelter and love me in the biting cold You are busy, I know, but see me please Life is not pleasurable or one of simple ease I once had a home and a family too Rushed through life, busy like you Forgotten and discarded in the corner cafe Wishing for more than your morning latte My only hope, made it last all day Trying hard not to be in anyone's way Standing on the side of the road It is where I live, where I grow old Please remember when you rush by T
Read more

Bridges by Tayé Foster Bradshaw

Image
Walking across time ©Antona Smith, taken in Alabama, 2014 Bringing me to you or you to me over a way through- tears and fears to bring us to the other side of possibility probability reality reality crossing structures through over under Crossing from New Jersey. ©Antona Smith 2016 hold on don't look down look down walk on over dance on over wheels on over over over over water and roads and all the modes that bring me to you or you to me collectively connected collaborating across the great wide way ©2016. Tayé Foster Bradshaw Group, Antona Smith. All Rights Reserved. Bridges used to scare me as a little girl. In the town where I grew up, in order to get from my neighborhood over to the swimming pool or summer activities, we walked. I was always fine until we reached the crest of the hill and that looming structure that connect roads-to-roads, over cars zooming beneath, promising me opportunity on the other side, if I just
Read more

We Must Change By The Hand

Image
Deny Destroy Defer Disgrace Dreadful Double Speak Death Destruction Demon Devil We must change, we must change, we must change.  Children should not die at the hands that hold weapons such as these.  We must change.  Rights are not rights to slaughter. Nonsense in mass murder. Cowardice in suicide. Children should not die at the hands that hold weapons such as these. 12/14/12...not again...my heart hurts for Newtown Connecticut and the 20 children and 6 adults murdered at Sandy Hook Elementary School.
Read more