Writing Emotions

Today was the second of three deadlines for delivering a letter to the offices of the organization that is leading my youngest on her wilderness adventure this week and next. As I composed my letter, suddenly I started missing her much more than I was aware of before that point.

That led me to reconsider the role and power of writing.

A man I know recently lost his mother, to cancer. He was with her at the end, as I was with my mother ten years ago this October.

As I composed my note to him today, I revisited the pain of losing Mom. The words, meant to comfort him, reopened a hurt for me.

I sent an ex-girlfriend a birthday message this week. As I sent it, just an ordinary email, I experienced a rush of emotions -- remembering how she looked, how her skin felt, and her hair. I remembered her sweet voice and the look on her face when she was telling a joke.

I missed her, palpably, in that moment.

My youngest son's replacement phone arrived today. I took it to him. But on the way, I stopped by the office of the girl's organization to drop off my letter. There was nowhere to park so I double-parked outside.

That turned out to be a bad, and potentially expensive, idea. The group is only one of many in that four-story building and there was no obvious place to drop off my letter.

As I debated what to do, a lovely young Latina woman offered to take me up to the 4th floor, where the group's office is located. I started to go with her, then noticed a traffic cop writing me a ticket outside.

Yikes! In SF, this would have been at least a $250 offense, I'm sure.

I raced out and prevailed upon the officer to allow me to drive the car away. He let me get away with this one.

After parking the car, next to a shop where a beautiful woman was sitting outside in the sun, I walked back to the building, found my young helper, and eventually delivered the letter.

Now I will imagine the time it reaches my daughter -- maybe tomorrow or days beyond -- somewhere out there along the Norther California coast. I tried to compose it in a way that would not trigger any homesickness or regret, but who knows what effect our words have on one another?

I'm constantly amazed when I hear from readers that my words have affected them. This has been for some time now a "closed" blog -- not discoverable via Google or other search engines, so it is a private space.

Those of you who choose to visit have probably been doing so for a long time. There must be something here you value.

I'm working on my voice. I'm telling some of my story. I'm trying to work up the courage to tell it to a much larger audience soon. Your feedback is always welcome.

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