Dear Rita,
Have you peeked out your window yet? I wonder what kind of mess Irene is making out there. I don’t know a lot about your day-to-day life in Iowa, but I do know that YOU are the Garden Witch. So you must have the nicest garden. Without you... I bet the rows aren’t straight.
Have I ever told you about my mother’s hair? It wasn’t curly like mine. It was long and straight and thick. Black silk.
She used to let me brush it for her. Before she went to parties. She had this beautiful, enormous dressing table full of perfumes and pots and jars of powders and rouge. I’d stand behind her and want to linger in those moments forever.
At the end of her life, when she was nothing but skin and bones (the cancer made her so sick; her pain was so bad that no pain reliever could touch it) she still had magnificent hair. I was brushing it when she died. I knew the moment the air left her chest. But you know what? I kept brushing her hair. I didn’t stop for I don’t know how long. Someone came...and then a doctor gave me some medicine that made me sleep for a long time. The next thing I remember clearly is waking up and seeing Robert. There was this mist in my eyes. Made everything foggy. Surreal. And then... I looked at his shining face (it was literally shining, in the sunlight from a high window) and the mist sort of...evaporated.
Is there mist stuck in the corners of your eyes, Rita? It will go away. You can let it go. The mist doesn’t hold Sal there. It keeps him locked up. And it’s time for him to fly into the heavens so you can see him as he is supposed to be seen.
Have you ever seen the autumn leaves up close? They are pretty...but spotted and imperfect. And you can’t ever find ALL the colors together. Only the bright red, or yellow, or orange.
But if you look from far away at a hillside or mountain...there it is! In all its majesty. The full impact of autumn flora.
Let him go and you will see him clearly. I promise.
On another note...my chickens are not laying eggs. I need you.
Love,
Glory