The Correspondent

by Virginia Evans

That amazement one feels at this stage of life—a sort of astonishment that is also confusion, which leads to a sort of worry, or a sort of fear, I guess. How did we get here? How can it be?

It kills me. Your watchful little look, the way

It is as if I’ve swallowed a hot air balloon but try not to let on.

I feel I need to present myself with a certain measure of command, some self-respect.

Anyway, it was a nice Christmas having what remains of my family all in one place.

It takes patience to say exactly what one means,

I believe one ought to be precious with communication. Remember: words, especially those written, are immortal. Sometimes, Caroline, the easiest inroad is to begin with a thank you, for a gift or a kindness or a letter, you know, and then take it from there. Answer every question they’ve asked, and ask your own,

you will have created a never-ending circuit of curiosity and learning.

In my memory, it’s all silence.

agree with something you said, that you dread dragging the children into your life when theirs seem busy enough already.

tricky dynamics that always (inevitably, it seems) plague the relationships of mothers and daughters,

He is fortunate to lack a certain civilized propriety that makes the standard person self-censor.

From the outside I’m sure he looks like a brainless slug, but he is my partner. Putting him in a home feels like surrendering. Like I’ll be giving all that up.

Till death do us part

Time cannot be rewound. The good that comes out of the bad can be unbearable.

you tell the truth it will come back to bite you like a snake finding its own tail to swallow.

my mother taught the opposite, that if we do not say the truth we have nothing. We are nothing.

Fix it, Sybil. Fix what is broken.

and nobody noticed me. (This is the trouble with being only five foot one inch, and it has always been the trouble, but you know I am tall on the inside.)

Dezi said something to me. He said there are complexities of human life that cannot be boiled down to black and white. Of course! Of course.

isn’t as if I’m in my twenties and just beginning a life, making those choices that become the pavers of a path which you walk. I’ve

wrote a great deal of poetry, which was wonderful, reacquainting me with myself.

year as you said: boldly, unapologetically, head up and not taking bullshit from anyone with a penis. You seem a worthy person to offer such advice.

Surprising even myself, I’ve let the tide go out with my self-defense,

Meeting your dear dad was the great surprise of my life because I’d never imagined I would have THAT. I thought I would need someone to find me bearable, but he thought I was wonderful! And I thought him even better. He never made me feel strange. He gave me a family—I’d outwitted the fate I’d assumed for myself. He taught me how to open myself to others. I had never done that. It was healing for me. He thought I was

wonderful, and I’ll always love him for that.

pulled back from you. If I didn’t feel as much to begin with, then it wouldn’t come as hard when, not if, but WHEN my fears came to pass again.

Grief (the biggest grief in the world) is like—What? What is it that happens to a person? I’ve always felt it is like a scream living inside me. It’s

When I look back at my life as a mother I have a pervasive sense of failure,

and yet look at you. Your life is full and good, and so is your brother’s.

I’m sorry I didn’t do better. I know you think of me

as your mother only, but please remember, inside I am also just a girl.

into a diatribe of her grievances against me like the projectile innards of a dirty bomb.

I reread your letter and this whole thing slowly turned over, like a fat whale on a beach, FLOP,

we could get the train back on the tracks.

Someone I loved very much said once to me there is no parallel universe; there is no ‘what could have been if only.’

take great care with my selections now, knowing my years of reading are coming to an end.

recognize how knowing you has been like coming in from the cold, lonely road to find a warm fire and a table laid, so thank you for that, Theodore.