Sunday, March 22, 2015

Dear Eduardo - 1

Dear Eduardo,

Well, I'm back.

I don't know if you think I "deserve" to be back. But I am.

I am in the place that matters most to me, that always mattered most. I tried not to come back. I lived in ten places between the time I left and now.  But it was no good. They were all no good. It will sound corny, but this is where my heart is, where my heart always was.

I have assembled all that was left of the original furniture, and there is quite a bit yet. And the books. So many people told me so many times that I should sell the books, and of course there are some rare ones. I laughed at them. I didn't let any of them go. Now I am glad, They are going with me back into the apartment where they belong.

When I am here, I am back with my grandparents and my mom, even though they have all passed on. I feel them here, with me.

You were here a lot at one time.

I don't want to summon you or call you yet. Or perhaps ever again. I don't know yet. You were so angry when we talked last.

It has been 12 years, Eduardo. Are you still as angry? Is that what you wish to preserve for whatever time on earth is left to us, now that our mothers are gone?

Remember those dishes with the flowers in the middle and the pink borders? I brought them along, too. And the finer ones, and the glass jars, and the little gold demitasse cups, and the Depression era glass. And that large bar, with the side drawers and the pop-out shelves.

I am so glad that they didn't remove the molding and the arches from the entryways and the foyer. I put my grandfather's desk right where it used to be. And the bookshelves right across from it, just where they used to be.

Some people would no doubt say I am crazy.

If so, crazy feels good. Crazy feels at home again. Crazy is where I should have stayed.

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