SOMEONE NAMED MELISSA

I knew a woman named "Melissa" once; it seems we were close, or growing to be. I know from the card she sent me dated 4/22/99. I must have known her through some poetry world that I inhabited in Austin. In 1999 I was in Austin and glad to be a poet and known as such. I don't remember Melissa. I'm embarrassed by the fact that I don't remember her, because of the card I got. It's written after I had a heart attack (March 18, 1999/surgery March 25, 1999). I found it among the myriad of cards and bills and papers that need sorting and discarding and shredding. The card is so tender, so raw, so true. I wish I knew who and where she is so that I could have a 2013 follow-up to it. I post it here because she and I had a connection. Once.

On the front of the card, and rough-hewn wooden table with a bowl that has water in it and a Walt Whitman quote: "The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity."

"Valerie,

I got this card some time ago, after I realized--days later--that I had not called, had not visited you as I had planned. There are no cards around that say: 'I don't know what to say.' I thought this one might best keep me on that point.

I received your email yesterday, and welcomed yesterday's calls. I was embarrassed that I had not made first contact, had not sent this card, had not acknowledged the visit I missed. I have thought of you often and warmly, and have prayed for your continued recovery.

I do not know what to say of myself. I am in a new relationship that felts like home. Work is going well, my writing is returning to me, and I am still moving toward my confirmation. And something else--something deeper though not any more or less true--has toppled out of balance, has spun down. Some days I simply stare, on some days hear my voice wound tighter than the circumstances warrant. Some days my plans to visit friends desert me. I guess the name of this is grief, but grief is still very much a stranger to me. I don't know how to welcome her, predict her, or recover any sense of grace when she trips and startles me.

Please know that you are in my thoughts and heart and prayers. Please know that I'm ok--most days my plans, my actions, my experience all line up neatly. Often, they're shot through with joy. And the terrain I'm in right now is slightly booby trapped, and the mines seem somehow set between us.

Thank you for your gift of time and understanding. One day I hope to reflect upon this season with you.
Love,
Melissa"

POSTED April 2, 2013
Found while Spring Cleaning, Sorting, Giving Away, Discarding, Packing