February 14th
Dear Tommy,
You asked me once about God. About what I thought.
I said, "Who the fuck knows?"
Then we kissed. We were in Krystal's backyard.
But I know that is not what I was really thinking. I always think the same thing, when I hear the word god.
I was probably four years old and we were standing on the front lawn. Me and Mom and Daddy and there was other people, too. Two others. I do not know who. But, I was wearing a purple dress that day, pretty and pale and down to my knees.
I had in my hands the most beautiful heart, cardboard; something I had cut out myself. I had painted it red. It was for my Uncle Garth.
I liked looking at it and paid no attention to the grown-ups.
It started to rain. On my heart. So, I looked up. The sky was full of huge, grey clouds. It was dark suddenly, just like it was going to be nighttime soon and I had not even had my lunch yet.
And the rain would wreck my heart.
I told my Daddy that I wanted to go inside.
I know I told him three times.
I remember looking back up desperately at the sky. I just wanted it to stop raining.
But the clouds had started to roll; moving fast from all directions, towards the middle of....what? I did not know.
"Daddy," I shrieked, pointing at the sky. "What's that? Daddy! What's that in the sky?"
"It's God," he said, and he laughed and then he said, "Let's go inside."
But I knew Daddy was wrong, as I watched the sky, while we walked up the porch stairs. I clutched hard to the red heart in my hand. I was crying, silent, fast tears because I was scared of what the clouds might do.
Because I knew the clouds were not God.
Tommy, clouds have minds of their own.
Of course, they do. God lets people make choices, right? And God created everything. And God loves everything. So, then God would love everything enough to let everything be able to makes its own choices, right?
Who the fuck knows?
I miss you.
Anarchy Forever,
Minnie
Dear Tommy,
You asked me once about God. About what I thought.
I said, "Who the fuck knows?"
Then we kissed. We were in Krystal's backyard.
But I know that is not what I was really thinking. I always think the same thing, when I hear the word god.
I was probably four years old and we were standing on the front lawn. Me and Mom and Daddy and there was other people, too. Two others. I do not know who. But, I was wearing a purple dress that day, pretty and pale and down to my knees.
I had in my hands the most beautiful heart, cardboard; something I had cut out myself. I had painted it red. It was for my Uncle Garth.
I liked looking at it and paid no attention to the grown-ups.
It started to rain. On my heart. So, I looked up. The sky was full of huge, grey clouds. It was dark suddenly, just like it was going to be nighttime soon and I had not even had my lunch yet.
And the rain would wreck my heart.
I told my Daddy that I wanted to go inside.
I know I told him three times.
I remember looking back up desperately at the sky. I just wanted it to stop raining.
But the clouds had started to roll; moving fast from all directions, towards the middle of....what? I did not know.
"Daddy," I shrieked, pointing at the sky. "What's that? Daddy! What's that in the sky?"
"It's God," he said, and he laughed and then he said, "Let's go inside."
But I knew Daddy was wrong, as I watched the sky, while we walked up the porch stairs. I clutched hard to the red heart in my hand. I was crying, silent, fast tears because I was scared of what the clouds might do.
Because I knew the clouds were not God.
Tommy, clouds have minds of their own.
Of course, they do. God lets people make choices, right? And God created everything. And God loves everything. So, then God would love everything enough to let everything be able to makes its own choices, right?
Who the fuck knows?
I miss you.
Anarchy Forever,
Minnie
Comments
and thank you, Q, for letting us know what was in the red envelope. seriously.
Perhaps I'm afraid of raising expectation or becoming invested.
Inevitably everyone runs out of steam... their writing gets weak or trite... they start 'phoning it in'. Why hitch my wagon to a horse that may go lame?
Well I've been coming here for months and months, waiting for your kite to come crashing down. Surely nobody can sustain such a high level of writing indefinitely, right?
Or maybe I'm wrong.
You just seem to be getting better and better... raising the bar for yourself and then clearing it easily.
I know you write for you, and not for me... just the same I apologize for not saying hello more often and for not reminding you of the rare gift you possess.
You are simply wonderful! [raises steaming cup of coffee in salute]
~treppenwitz~
i wonder whether your writing comes from personal experience?
regardless, i follow mister treppens lead and salute you.
life, love, laughs
-lee
Thank you.
Q
Q
Biography of a Cloud
Q