Recent Correspondence

Letters to the Dead

Dear G,

At that last lunch, you presented me with your daughters, and I was so honored. So willing. But it wasn’t until your peaceful demise that I fully grasped your intentions. I don’t know if I’ve measured up. It’s complicated. The windows are streaked and dusty, but I’m still willing. And I miss you.

Love,

Rita

Dear Mick,

Before your unexpected death, you wrote that even though you didn’t go to church, I made you laugh at the magnitude of what’s asked of us, and you had no idea why you cried when I offered God seven onions. You said I should put these writings into a book. I loved you for that. We never met, but you’ve helped me keep afloat. Thank you.

Cheers,

Rita

Dear Brian, Cindy, Dan, Greg, Liz, Rex, Jim, P.J., and the lot of you,

The days are growing shorter, and the impending challenges of winter are leering at me. How dare you die? But then, how dare you not? Your absences make it harder, but you each cleared a faint trail through the wilderness and left deep, distinct snow angels behind. For that, I am grateful.

Warmest Regards,

Rita

A Note to the Living

Dear You Know Who You Are,

If you knew you’d be dead in a month, would you live differently? Well, for some among us, that is actually true. Therefore, let us recline in community and together partake in the Now—a dish best sparingly seasoned by the past, basted in its own juices, and constantly stirred over medium heat. (When the Now gets overheated by relentless fears of the future, the flavors diminish.) Here’s to the feast!

Sincerely,

You Know Who I Am

A Missive Sent in Smoke to the Noncorporeal

Dear Beyond and Within,

It has been said that there are no atheists in foxholes. This is incorrect. Foxholes create atheists. And rightly so. The mornings after are short on solace and long on dread. Nonetheless, when I lie flat on the undulating ground and pretend to close my eyes, I see your gnarly feet and hear the swish of silk across the tall autumn grass.

Corporeally yours,

Rita

A Reply

Dear Rita,

Infinity. Interiority. Insight.

Rivers. Ravens. Rain.

Photosynthesis.

Volcanoes.

Sacrifice.

Fire.

Color.

Redemption.

Dinosaurs. Dogs. Daylight.

Imagination. Intention. Infinity.

Yours to Unearth,

The One You Sometimes Call God