15 + 9 points
Renew An Old Correspondence by maccabee Shelley
May 18th, 2006 9:02 PM
May 18, 2006
Dad,
It’s been 15 years. I don’t remember if I called you “Dad.” Maybe this letter should have been addressed to “Daddy.” I really can’t remember though. That’s actually a common theme; not remembering. I know that you affected me in ways that shaped what I have become, but I think it will be a long time (if ever) before I understand enough to start to isolate specifics. I seem to remember less than anyone else, but that makes sense as I am the youngest.
I feel like there should be questions I am dieing to ask you but there aren’t. I feel like I should seek some resolution but I don’t. At least not right now. I have thought for the past 4 or 5 years that I will come back to you at some point later in life…probably something like a midlife crisis.
Mostly I want to look into your eyes without talking; to feel your presence. The last time I felt you was about 3 years ago when I visited San Francisco with a friend and the hotel sheets smelled like cigarettes. As I lay in bed with the sheets pulled around me the smell stimulated parts of me that had lay in dormant languish for so long.
That’s all me….what about you? I wonder what it has been like all this time. I think part of me knows, or pretends to. I want to listen like I never could. Just ramble for me, at me. Don’t think about it, just speak or write and don’t stop anything that comes. There has been too much time past to censor anything now.
You probably want to know about me and what my life is like. It’s strange to describe it to you though, because I’ve really only ever described myself that way for job interviews and they are bullshit. I never became an actor, but I worked all over the industry. I don’t know if you remember me playing with the computer, but I stuck with that and have used them for work, recreation, and hopefully art. I’m trying to think independently and live by my beliefs. It’s a struggle I think you understand. I moved to San Francisco to get away from the car and the hot weather, but I miss our old country house in the city. I think Tory and I get along ok and things with Mom are good too.
There’s so much more to say, I wish I written to you earlier. I will try to write again soon, and I’ll understand if I don’t hear from you.
Love,
Maccabee
Dad,
It’s been 15 years. I don’t remember if I called you “Dad.” Maybe this letter should have been addressed to “Daddy.” I really can’t remember though. That’s actually a common theme; not remembering. I know that you affected me in ways that shaped what I have become, but I think it will be a long time (if ever) before I understand enough to start to isolate specifics. I seem to remember less than anyone else, but that makes sense as I am the youngest.
I feel like there should be questions I am dieing to ask you but there aren’t. I feel like I should seek some resolution but I don’t. At least not right now. I have thought for the past 4 or 5 years that I will come back to you at some point later in life…probably something like a midlife crisis.
Mostly I want to look into your eyes without talking; to feel your presence. The last time I felt you was about 3 years ago when I visited San Francisco with a friend and the hotel sheets smelled like cigarettes. As I lay in bed with the sheets pulled around me the smell stimulated parts of me that had lay in dormant languish for so long.
That’s all me….what about you? I wonder what it has been like all this time. I think part of me knows, or pretends to. I want to listen like I never could. Just ramble for me, at me. Don’t think about it, just speak or write and don’t stop anything that comes. There has been too much time past to censor anything now.
You probably want to know about me and what my life is like. It’s strange to describe it to you though, because I’ve really only ever described myself that way for job interviews and they are bullshit. I never became an actor, but I worked all over the industry. I don’t know if you remember me playing with the computer, but I stuck with that and have used them for work, recreation, and hopefully art. I’m trying to think independently and live by my beliefs. It’s a struggle I think you understand. I moved to San Francisco to get away from the car and the hot weather, but I miss our old country house in the city. I think Tory and I get along ok and things with Mom are good too.
There’s so much more to say, I wish I written to you earlier. I will try to write again soon, and I’ll understand if I don’t hear from you.
Love,
Maccabee
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posted by anna one on September 6th, 2006 1:28 PM
ouch. it hurts to read, but I think you're right
wow, that's powerful stuff.
inspires me to write to my own dad, who i've never had a proper heart to heart with.