Letter 48 – B is for Broken Hearted, Break up Letters, Benefactor, Bereavement, Bondage and Books
I’m writing this letter on 6/27/2112 at 2:41 P.M.
“First it was a broken toe, then a broken brow, and finally a broken heart. But, as I said somewhere, the human heart is indestructible. You only imagine it is broken. What really takes a beating is the spirit. But the spirit too is strong and, if one wishes, can be revived.” –Henry Miller, Insomnia or The Devil at Large
I’m at home in the suburbs with my four dogs, six doves and my husband. I am comforted by their unconditional love. A new baby dove has been born. She looks like a girl. I am thinking about calling her June, because she was born during the month of June. I’m also calling her June after Henry Miller’s infamous wife, June. The only single male dove I have is named Henry, who is named after Henry Miller. I think Henry is the most handsome, smartest, cutest and the horniest bird ever! He seems lonely, so I am hoping that this new dove is a girl, and can be a companion for Henry.
“Struggle is the most invaluable experience of all. Suffering seems to be the inevitable fast of the creative sensitive types. Poverty, disease, death, unrequited love affairs, and disappointments of every sort fan the flame of the artistic spirit.” –Henry Miller, Reflections
Over the past few days, I have felt like I have walked for miles and miles through my most, darkest, lowest hours in my life. I’m trying to pretend nothing bad has happened – all is well in my world. Suddenly I jerk myself back into the present, snapping myself out of a rose colored fantasy world. And then I remember that I live in a reality full of life’s ups and downs, much like riding the vintage, Cyclone Rollercoaster at Coney Island.
When I first started writing these first fifty letters to you, Henry, I never imagined that I would be writing such a sad letter as I was nearing the end of this book. I always like to believe in happy endings. However, the winds of life can change as quickly as one blinks their eyes. On Monday, June 25, my entire world went to shit. I took a nose dive into Hell. I had a fight with my 21 year old daughter, on the phone. Next, I engage in a loud disagreement with my twenty-three year old son, face to face, at our suburban home. He and I scream mean and ugly words at each other – which is so dysfunctional and fucked up. The funny thing is – we hardly ever fight. I genuinely enjoy my son’s company. He moved out of my home, hours after our fight ended, which makes me sad, yet, happy that he will finally learn how to live his life independently – a mother can only hope. And I will finally get some peace and solitude and a rest from my never ending bitching for my son to do the dishes or to put the toilet seat down when he finishes pissing in it.
“Life is change. Growth is optional. Choose wisely.” –Henry Miller Continue reading