An Epistle from "Tape"

                The waitress approached the table and reached across for an empty coffee mug, “How are you tonight, hun?” She inquired with more sincerity than CS had ever heard from any ascetics from the monastery. Her hands appeared soft like little pillow pads hugging a bed frame as she poured the coffee.

“Well…” replied CS, “…”

“That is good dear.” The waitress interrupted before any further words could be spoken. She placed the mug back onto the center saucer circle. “Good, good.” Then she hurried off to another table and continued her pouring for customers.

CS looked down at the pen lifted from the waitress’ apron pocket, pulled several napkins from the stainless steel spring loaded silver box and began an epistle to whoever would read…

M,

I am now traversing route 44 after Missouri. The trip so far has been pretty good. I understand that was subjective and rather nondescript but I do not know how else to tell you what I’ve seen. My mind does not work the same as yours and though I try, unless I am told what something is I could not judge it from another. There were trees and shrubs; Ash and Elder, of course Oak, what did you call them… queer…cuss alba or something? You always had a way of remembering the scientific details that I cannot hold onto. Just allow me to walk you back.

                                                           **

                After father and I pulled away from our house, the house which used to be ours, we turned left down 17^th Street. As we approached the stop sign I saw Ash, walking back to the house. I was not thinking rationally, I suppose I was a bit emotional. I yelled to stop the truck, jumped out and ran. Tears were beginning to weep from the corners of my eyes as I threw my arms out exclaiming I was leaving for the west. Ash threw everything into the street and became angry, softened quickly then hugged me.

               {Only my really crazy friends got fake mad before reacting with physical affection. Dad said it has something to do with being an island or rather “no one is an island” and therefore psychological problems are not purely individual. I don’t quite understand. It was nice but not exactly neat, there I go though being nondescript and perhaps useless to you for understanding. I felt really bad telling Ash like that but I had to before I left. I only wish I would have spent more time with people before we left but dad and I had all of the packing to do. I wish I would have spent more time with everybody. I feel so selfish because I didn’t tell people about the move.}

                The South didn’t take long to get over… above…out of, it was easy driving, according to dad. The George Rogers Clark Bridge was awesome, well… I suppose it would awe some people. I really wish you could be here to experience this with me. I was thinking about what you said that day in the park. There was no need to carve our initials into the tree as vestige to our love. I loved how you said that, “vestige to our love”. You are so sensitive to our environment and life and to me. Then you explained about us being connected when we are together. That we travel holding hands and our hands are crossing the town, which is rotating with the Earth and Earth, is traveling through space but moves also through the galaxy and so we must be carving our love into the same shapes of space time of the great vast beyond. This hurts to think about now because you are not beside me, holding my hand. I can still feel you inside of me though, that is a feeling I never want to lose.

I am reading your book. As usual I didn’t understand much but that we are connected by a string and that string connects everything, therefore we can never be apart. I suppose we are like tin can phones, right? No, that seems silly. Tin cans are boring and hollow and cold. It reminds me of the tin man from Oz and he didn’t have a heart. I don’t want us to be heartless. They are common like this coffee mug in front of me or the napkin dispenser on the table. I want to return to the place close to you to feel embraced by your mind and sheltered again by your thoughts.

As we ascended, is that the right word? Headed North ward, each state was pretty neat but looked a lot like the Southern states of our hometowns, yet again we were on the highway and highway scenery is all the same. As we entered Newton the great bright fire in the sky was descending. The sky was getting dark and I put in some softer music. I guess my music selection was good but that seems so subjective. All the songs I recorded on the tapes were songs that I’ve listened to a lot. Only the songs I listen to a lot are songs we used to listen to or songs that remind me of you. The feeling of you inside of me I imagine rises in my heart to my throat and as it tries to escape my mouth while I sing along to our songs I feel the strains and begin to choke. This reaction of emotion is so distant to your mysticism. It’s so hard going away when everything I want I have to leave behind. This move has really opened up eyes to all that I had and to all I’m really going to miss. As long as I keep my mind on the road it’s not so bad but whenever my mind starts to stray it strays back to you. Maybe one day when I’m not thinking about it or least expect it I’ll stray back to you for good. Well… good or bad. Does it matter? What is matter but a string? So again I will put my feet upon the dashboard and tighten my shoe laces until I can walk again with you.

Always yours in Time & Space,
CS