Dear_____

The news of your wedding came this afternoon. How the world has changed.

I think of you and the summer we met. You and the Shepardess and Keith and Colin—and Mitch and mini-Mitch (and a host of co-workers whose names don’t come to mind readily…)

You sneaking off to see Run Lola, Run; taking the early afternoon train to Pennsylvania—your broken heart; the under-pay; the string of tigers-eye I gave you…

Your guitar haikus; Drew Blood murdering piano keys…

A Tori Amos concert.

You didn’t strike me as the marrying type back then.

 

I think of you and I recall magnificent summers. There were winters of course—and spring too… Some not so memorable, some we’d like to block out. Remember the East Village, when I had to live with “Shut-Up” the Siamese Cat? So-called because that’s what we said to the poor creature every time it screeched (which was frequent.) It wasn’t it’s fault, it’s vocal chords were shot. As you might recall, my landlady was a crack-head. Remember, she broke into my apartment and stole my CD-Player, along with my Velvet Goldmine soundtrack…

No nostalgia there.

 

There was the summer we lived in Williamsburg. Hot crazed days— and nights at the Kennedy Compound. Endless martini flow, glorious heat; the crazy boys from up the street; impromptu dinners; then back to the Compound; and more boys. And girls. But mostly boys…

We ruled that summer didn’t we?

Remember my poolside birthday party at the Compound? Granted it was a kiddies’ pool, but how elegant! All our friends and associates on a Sunday afternoon in buff, light summer finery… The festivities ended early, giving rise to a coke-fueled tunnel of night…

Dragged to sleep by the heavy scent of tiger-lilies as daylight broke…

 

The night my grandmother died, I dreamed of her passing:

You and I were mermaid girls off the coast of Cornwall. We admired ourselves in a magic mirror, burnished silver with coral and seashells… Your hair flowed past your feet, and mine, a tangly mass of dreads, locked horns with the sea. My grandmother, now a young mermaid, played with us…

Later we shape-shifted into selkie and bobbed in the ocean.

 

Who is this person you married? From the pictures, he seems very pretty— you make an attractive pair. I received the news this afternoon, and something within me shattered. I forget the express details, but in the myth of Osiris, for some reason his body is cut up into pieces and scattered… His sister-consort, Isis, must find all the pieces and assemble them to bring him back to life. Thus he becomes lord of the Underworld.

 

If I had to do it all over again, I would—but I can’t do it now. The world is changed and you are married and I am different. A part of my soul remains with you. I ask that you guard it well and care for it. Time and again I will check in to see how that other person is doing…

I wish you every happiness in your married life.

 

With kind regards,

Your friend__________