In my fantasy world, someone lovely would write these intros for me <3
Dear Auntie SAM: How are you? I hope things settled down and you are happy and strong again. I’m sorry to read things did not Work. That is a pity! I guess you re so disappointed.
Mmmm … what a very sweet note 🙂 Thank you
When the days fail to rise early & disappear before most of us have had our evening tea, the temptation to stay snuggled under down covers – avoiding ear-shattering truths – remains strong. Sometimes all we can do in Basel is get home. Drinks with friends ? A cozy night in ? All succumb to the most bitterest foe: the chill.
That cold that blows inside you through any open … wound. That kiss that slices ice into your heart. As if the Snow Queen herself had decided to make you hers, Baslers old & new retreat to medieval castles … trying to solve puzzles reason cannot win.
In the five years your Auntie has been in Basel, it only snowed as in the postcards, twice. The winter that welcomed her dusted deciduous trees with shimmering white glitter as if to say … «Follow us … you recognise us … let’s play … »
I needn’t tell you: I did.
The next somewhat large snowstorm was a treacherous tease. Halfway melting, then freezing, then snowing again. Changing its course – its intention – as if it was just waiting for you to remove your scarf before drenching Basel’s sweet skies in torrential ice rain.
{ Your Auntie takes weather personally. }
Once, in the depths of Hades, I kissed a Devil on his lips. My saliva mixed with his blood mixed with cherries – perhaps Maraschino – whipped with clotted cream.
I was told that was love. Opportunity. Safety. Adoration. … I was lucky.
Only the last part was true.
Because – & this might sound a little perverse to you, but I promise it’s true – I was lucky to know all those things in all the wrong ways.
At one time, your Auntie had the dream: Love. Success. Opportunity. Safety. Adoration. Possibilities. Meaning. Cresting on warming waves of other people’s admiration, she let go of the rudder. And found herself an iceberg in the sea.
Icarus hadn’t flown up; she (yes, She) dived down.
At my favorite holiday, one year, I snuck to the basement to cry. I was eleven years old &, after a few moments, my father joined me.
«Why are you so sad ?» He asked … or something like that.
«I don’t want to be here. I can’t be here any longer … »
«Do you mean on earth ?»
«I don’t know.»
«OK.»
We sorted the colors in my aunt’s door-to-door lipstick sales kit. Every shade seemingly more hideous than the last. (I won’t tell you the decade, Darling)
«If you could go anywhere,» he asked, «where would you go ?»
«To Europe. To the sea.»
And that’s when he promised me the trip that would never happen. The promise your Auntie held onto until the afternoon she sat on the floor at his bedside & told her Dad: «It’s OK, if you leave … I’ll find my own way.»
There are many things in this world to be disappointed about, Darling. Many things that hurt. And scar.
Being lucky enough to find people to walk a partial journey with you, Love … take a deep breath: That’s a gift.
Love. Opportunity. Safety. Adoration. Luck.
These things, we should all be so fortunate to have … if even just for a moment. Especially: enough moments to matter.
Once, during a blizzard, my parents built my sisters & I an igloo. As if these two teenagers in love had been life-long masons, they shaped, crafted, melded, & transformed our barren backyard into a cozy iced den. I was amazed at how warm it was inside. I traced the edges of the cubes. Drew hieroglyphs & graffiti. Sang songs, melted edges with matchsticks, wondered how long unexpected magic could last.
Until dawn – I discovered. Until rosy fingers wanted something new.
Aurora stretched. She arched her back like a cat & crumbled ice castles with her yawn. Regret ? Disappointment ? What are these things to you & I ?
The only way to move forward is to understand all you’ve left behind.
Slumber.
Stretch. Purr.
XO
AS