July 25, 1999
Katrina,
The sun is beaming down beneath a picture perfect sky of blue and white and, as always, you are on my mind. As I sit here, staring out the window, dazed and confused by the earlier rhythm of the porch swing, the hum of the air conditioner, and the sparkling glare of a ninety degree sun bouncing on and off the water of the lake as if jumping in and out for a cool swim, I feel the desire to contribute to someone’s life, as I told you about when I visited. It is with these thoughts that I write this letter, hoping that these words will leave behind a legacy for some soul I may never know, possibly creating some ease where pain had been by sharing some of the lessons I’ve learned; thinking that on some cold winter night, when the wind blows through a soul, ignoring their existence, and the quiet desperation of loneliness is felt deep within, that these letters will be read and the comfort of a friend will be felt.
There is so much that has happened within these walls. If only walls could talk, what would they say about the lives that have passed within?
So much of our life is spent focusing on trying to achieve something in our future or worrying about something from our past that we forget that this moment we currently hold in our hands is passing away as smoothly and as predictably as a mountain stream. When we use all of our energy fretting over what we don’t have, what we want, or what we’ve already missed, we lose our opportunity for joy.
Life is a journey, and our time here is passive. Our only guarantee at birth is that we will someday die. The only question is how much time we will spend here on Earth. So, why waste a moment and exchange an opportunity to laugh or to smile for that of something more negative, something that will drain us of hope instead of inspiring us to move on, to learn.
There are many moments of joy that we overlook; not so much because we are blind to the beauty, but because we see with our eyes instead of our hearts. Open a heart and you will discover all of these wondrous opportunities to smile. It’s been said to “stop and smell the roses,” but life is so much more than roses. People need to take time to notice the happy tears of the dew upon the flowers as they open their petals to the light of a new day, waving their leaves to their old friend, the Sun, with a cheerful, “Good morning.” We need to notice the patient smile on a dog as he rests with crossed paws, observing his territory as he waits for children to come out and play. We need to notice that the trees seem to stretch their limbs upward, stretching up tall with a deep inhale and a quiet yawn as they greet the day.
Taking the time to watch a sunrise or a sunset, watching the water flow, or listening to the stories of the wind, an appreciation is grown for the wonders of the world, an appreciation that will assist in slowing down the pace of life so that every moment can be experienced. And, when every moment is experienced, one can truly feel blessed for the few moments we have on this Earth, those moments when we truly feel alive.
I’m always questioning, wondering why we’re all here, what is life all about, what is the meaning of life. And, after all of these years, I’ve finally come to learn a possible answer. When people laugh -- really laugh -- and weightlessness is felt about the body and the stomach feels light; in that incredible moment is the answer because in that moment we experience true honesty and happiness, humanity. The secret of life is to experience those moments as often as possible.
Did we, the souls that have passed through these walls, written at this desk, live, take advantage of those wonderful moments when joy could have been experienced instead of heartache? Did we take the time to watch the sunsets, the sunrises, to notice the tall reeds, aided by the breeze, wave at the sky, happy to be alive? Did we? How would these walls, which have grown stronger and wiser with time, standing tall against the storms, its corners hugging the noon day sunlight, answer that question?
Katrina, can you remember when we were young, when we lived for laughter and mocked at fear, daring anyone to impede our exploration of the world? Can you hear my voice when I write these letters, Kat? Can you recall the laughter of two girls dressed as one parading around a summer field with Father’s old top hat and baton, making up songs to sing as we marched along, with Whiskers nearby ready to pounce on a bumblebee, when we knew not the toll of war or the care of money or the loss of love or the importance of time?
What happened to those girls of yesteryear? Did we grow up or old or did we simply stop growing at all?
I’ll write again soon. Perhaps I’ll write in the morning hour when the sun doesn’t shine so brightly through the window, illuminating the dark well of bad decisions.
As always,
Your loving sister,
Christina
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