Do not imagine, because you find these lines in your journal that I have been trespassing. You know I have not – and where else shall I leave a love letter? For I long to write you a love-letter tonight. You are all about me – I seem to breathe you, hear you, feel you in me and of me. What am I doing here? You are away. I have seen you in the train, at the station, driving up, sitting in the lamplight, talking, greeting people, washing your hands… And I am here – in your tent – sitting at your table. ~Katherine Mansfield (in a letter to John Middleton Murray)
Pick at least three of the following words, and build a piece of writing around them. The form is up to you: poem, scene, flash-fic, essay, or general blog entry. If you want to be really daring, write a love letter, instead.
greeting, hands, imagine, leave, letter, people, train, trespassing, washing
My Dearest Love,
By the time your eyes read these words, I will be on the train, surrounded by people who mean less than nothing to me -strangers trespassing upon my solitary grief.
My attempts to imagine life without you are futile, even as this powerful engine speeds me ever closer to that reality. A new life opens before you, one which can not include me. Though I accept the inevitability of my sentence, I fear it’s reality will be more painful than I can bear. But better for me to endure this pain than for you to suffer the sorrow that our life together would entail. For it was I who trespassed upon your life, who crossed the boundary of your home and threatened the peace of your family.
Do you recall the day we met? Of course you do – it is etched in your memory as it is in mine. Your greeting was perfectly polite, yet when you took my hands in yours, you set my soul afire. From that moment there was no retreat for either of us.
At least there wasn’t until today. This morning I watched you hold your new baby daughter, tiny Emma Grace with her auburn ringlets, her ten perfect fingers and toes. As the four of us stood before the altar, sun burst through the Rose Window, illuminating the two of you in a perfect mist of light. Did you notice my fingers quiver as they dipped into the font? Did you hear those holy words catch in my throat as I uttered them?
“I baptize you…” I started out saying, wanting to continue with “my one true, and holy love, from now until death do us part.” Instead, I gave your daughter her name and consigned her future to God, through the auspices of you and your husband.
I pray my departure does not sadden your heart overmuch, does not detract one iota of the joy you should now be feeling. And I pray that our love remains a vibrant and joyful memory in your mind and heart. Perhaps one day we can meet again, when we are not encumbered by our separate vows. Whether that day be on earth or in heaven, I look forward to it with great anticipation, and I remain…
~Your Dearest Love
for Cafe Writing, February Prompt Number Three