| theatrical_muse no. 1 |
[Apr. 23rd, 2006|07:28 pm] |
Close your eyes and think about what you've been missing in your life lately. It could be a person, pet, place, thing, occasion, feeling. Anything at all that you miss dearly.
I ought, I suppose, to say I miss my Mama or my Papa, but the truth is I truly cannot remember them terribly much at all. Of Mama, I recall flowers and water and a summer gown all soiled by the river and the mud. Of Papa, I recall only tugging at his sleeves and asking him to play with me or to hold me, but he never would. I think Mama, perhaps, shared my name. But none of these are things to miss, though I daresay I missed them rather when first they were gone. But now, I believe--of all the strange and foolish things!-- that I do miss Eddy most of all. I have spent my entire life quarrelling with him, praying that he would meet another girl or decide it was best not to have a wife if one wanted to live in Egypt, hoping beyond hope that I would somehow not be forced to spend my life with him. Yet now that he is gone for good, thoughts of him consume my every moment. It hardly seems like being properly alive without a letter or a visit from him-- I cannot rid myself of the expectation that one of his terrible, short letters will arrive any day, or that he will no doubt come to call at any moment. It is just like Eddy to be so very troublesome-- finally I have rid myself of him, and now I want nothing more than to have him back. |
|
|