Dearest Rita,
Please forgive me if you hear a bit of nervous laughter in my letter today. I mean no disrespect, at ALL. But I have to say I could fairly feel the spit of your rage and worry in that last letter. I imagined you in my own kitchen banging around pots and pans, only stopping to point at me, throw your hands up in disgust and bang around some more.
I tend to laugh when I’m in trouble. It isn’t one of my best qualities. One night when Robbie was in the hospital a nurse found me laughing on the bench outside of his room. I mean, laughing with tears streaming out of my eyes. There was a horror in her gaze that I won’t forget, ever. Please don’t be horrified with me. I’d be lost without you.
Know that I hear you. And I am doing my best to keep things under control. Once again Levi and I talked in the early-morning hours on the porch, only this time our breath came out like smoke, as the days are like ice here now. I know we both agree that it can’t happen again, but no matter how I try, I can’t ignore him. He’s been a part of my life forever, and the days drag on endlessly without him. Little by little he creeps back into my mind, heart and house. I’m praying for the strength to keep away from him. Yes, me. Praying. Because even though I’m strong—and even though my love for Robert is the realest thing I know...the other day Levi did the darnedest thing. I was on a chair trying to trim the grape arbor and couldn’t reach the top. Just then Levi walked up the path and I almost fell over. He grabbed me about the waist and helped me down, but his hands stayed put on my hips.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes. Fine. Please let go,” I said, but I whispered...so he didn’t let go right away.
“Make me,” he said, and leaned his head in like he would kiss me again.
I turned my head.
“Never again, Levi. Never again,” I said.
It was only then that he let go and walked away. How my heart ached for him.
So to say I’m confused would be an understatement. I’ll leave it at that and say thank you for your advice. Your caring means more to me than you will ever know. And you made some valid points that I had not thought on. Food for thought is always a wonderful thing.
Speaking of which, did you see the article in Reader’s Digest by Ayn Rand? About active vs passive people? Here’s what it says in a nutshell. That we are American because we are individuals, but we can only be productive in society if we act as individuals. If we are passive, the world goes by, and those that act can act in terrible ways without any of us interceding. So, we must all act! Fascinating.
I’m using her analogies in my mind almost every day. It is the best thing to do in terms of helping Robert. I will actively support him here at home by helping to make his community, his country, a better place through my speaking engagements. And I need to keep my heart open to Levi. Not open the way it wants to be. Not romantically. But friends, like it should be. Like it always was. It would do no good to stay here and turn my heart and my body to stone. You have to try and trust me. The only thing I’m risking here is a broken heart. And to be quite honest, it’s already broken. It broke those days in the hospital while I watched my boy go from alive, to half-dead, to half-alive. I am steeled against sorrow now. At least I think I am.
I’m planning a letter to Roylene.
I love that you care.
With deepest respect,
Glory
P.S. As a peace offering, and in hopes that my madness hasn’t changed our friendship (and a bit of me eating a “Humble” portion of it myself...) here is a wonderful pie recipe I found. I hope you enjoy it, Rita.
Mock Apple Pie (This one feels like a magic trick!)
Prepare a 2-layer pie crust
14 saltine (soda) crackers broken into pieces
Cook and cool the following:
1½ cups water
½ cup sugar (or corn syrup)
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1½ teaspoons cream of tartar
3 tablespoons lemon juice
⅛ teaspoon nutmeg
Place crackers into the unbaked pie shell. Pour the cooled mixture over the crackers. Cover with the second layer of the pie crust. Bake at 325 degrees until crust is light brown.
(One would never know there were no apples in it!)