Hope

Photo courtesy Flickr Commons

Photo courtesy Flickr Commons

Other fiction I write has found a home on The Community Storyboard, and my trials and conquests with Paleo have found—wait, no that’s a spoiler – and D has his own outlet here when he takes the blog for a day to tell his tale. I decided that Sundays, instead of being a weekly update from me, are going to be a day for A – otherwise known as Katie. I may be a heathen, but it seems fitting.

I read a letter from my 13-year-old self today. I was supposed to read it 10 years ago, but misplaced it or, more likely, just avoided it. I was afraid it would be maudlin. Who isn’t maudlin at 13?

In it, I was concerned – and rightly so – with the status of my love life. I didn’t have the heart to tell 13 year-old me that we were 10-years divorced, and just settling into singledom after a lengthy relationship that had ceased to serve its purpose. Poor kid; she wanted more than that.

She asked after our daughters. It never occurred to us at that age that we would have a boy. Wow, and what a boy he is. Conan O’Brien and David Tennant met in a dark alley and TC burst into being.

Despite having written her first novel (that I also found… oh, dear!), 13-year-old me wanted to be an actress. She had no talent, so I’m really glad that wasn’t pursued, but I do see where TC gets some of his flair. Luckily, in TC, it has also found a more gifted outlet!

For all her questions and grand visions of the future, 13-year-old me demanded to know if I still believed in my dreams. What she wanted for us was hope. I wasn’t maudlin at 13. I was perhaps a little overly concerned with fame and power, but I wasn’t maudlin.

It’s no wonder D and I don’t have an easy working relationship. I have hopes and dreams, and they are, for the most part, lighthearted. D is not exactly maudlin, but he is a little like the ocean. He is deep, at times unfathomable and cold, furious in his passions and dangerous, too. I am the stone that skims the top of the waves, and he would like to swallow that stone and turn it into sand.

For all that I have been alone, these last two weeks have been the most emotionally intense that I have endured while writing. Part 3 was all about D and the world he’s trying to protect Sean and Maureen from – a world they belong to just as much as he does. In telling the much-abbreviated version of his story, D made me cry. I wept with sorrow for him and all that he’s lost. I raged at him for being so damned ornery. He also gave me shivers and a glimpse at a world I have yet to fully understand. And, at the end of it all, I had hope.

So 13-year old me, thank you. You did well and I’m going to make you proud.

Ever write a letter to yourself? Did you actually read it? 

0 thoughts on “Hope

    • Thank you – I read a lot of books when I was young that gave me a sense of wanting life to be grander than it was – it tied into the hope and I’m still living with starry visions in my head! Makes life so much more enjoyable!

  1. I never wrote a letter to future me. I know people who did a time capsule for their future selves, but I never did it. It sounds like a good idea because as you get older, you kind of forget what you were like back then. At least I did.

  2. I’ve written myself a letter to future self, but like you, immediately lost it. It’s somewhere in the house–maybe in some box stashed under the stairs along with all the old trophies and yearbooks. I have yet to read it. I wrote it twenty years ago. Hmm, now you have me curious as to what I wrote.

    Nonetheless, I keep a journal. I’ve been writing in it since 1988. There’s quite a history there. Sometimes I write a lot in it, sometimes I’ll go months without even touching it. I suppose now is one of those occasions where I’m not doing anything with it. I guess ’cause I’m blogging and it’s serving as my journal for now.

    Maybe one day, I’ll find that letter. Maybe not. I’m sure when I do I’ll surprise myself with what I wrote. But don’t we all surprise ourselves when we least expect it?

    • Go find that letter, because we do surprise ourselves. I was really glad I did in the end – it was a bit embarrassing but it left me with such a better impression of myself and what I’m really capable of.

      I’m terrible with journals. I write in them all the time, but then I usually end up burning them. They often serve as a very personal testament to an in-flux emotional state and when that time is over, out they go. It’s a form of therapy, I think.

      • I do that! I call it emotional vomiting on the page. I dump everything I have in one big surge of pent-up emotion in Word, then chuck the document when I’m done. It IS therapy. And it works. I write things in my journal I want to remember (good and bad). I’ve never had to delete anything from my journal, thankfully. All those entries are there to remind me of what it was like. I guess I’m selective in what I write. lol

  3. I once had a lucid dream where I was hanging out with my 18 year old self. The the scene was Orange County California and my young self (Y.S.) wore the sideburns, hangdog look and corduroy jacket of that period. Y.S. didn’t seem to know it was a dream. I (older self) drove my 66 Dodge Dart, glancing in the rearview mirror for cops (we were probably “holding” -as we used to say.) Y.S. didn’t say much, being rather shy and self conscious. We were just cruising, around enjoying each others company.
    It felt like a sweet rapprochement with an forgotten aspect of my life.

    • I know how you feel – the love of my five-year-old life was Han Solo (although he had some fierce competition from Indiana Jones). I recall having a journal back then and I can even remember what it looked like and what was written in some of the pages, but I think it went the way of the trash a few years ago. I’m glad the 13-year-old letter didn’t follow.

  4. What a bittersweet post, Katie! I wish I had letters and journals that I had written at 13. So much of what I wrote as an adult is lost, too. But I remember my teen-age head as being full of dreams, some very pedestrian, some very grand. I am not at all in the place where I thought I would be when I was 13, but I don’t think my 13-year-old self would be terribly disappointed 🙂

    • I’m right there with you – nowhere close to where I thought I would be (heck, even at 18 I threw everyone for a loop and moved to Ireland), but still, I think she’d be okay with where we are, and where we’re going!

  5. Thank you for dropping by my blog — I’m not sure what led you there, but I’m glad you did. This nearly made me cry, and I’m at work, so I’m not sure if I should thank or chastise you!
    It is very hard to realize that the child in you might be disappointed in who you’ve become, but I’d like to think that I have done things and accomplished things that 13 year old me never dreamed of. Thank you for this, it was painful but cathartic.

    • Helena pointed me in your direction – and I think I’ve seen your picture pop up on a few other blogs. Plus, I like the idea of a debate on the Holy Roman Empire being neither Holy, nor Roman!

      I’m glad you liked the post (or rather, that the post gave you pause!) and thank you for stopping by my crazy little place! I’m not always thoughtful – most days D and I (the character in my head) are just snarky!

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