All posts by Dona

Return to Sender 64 years later

Friends, Things

My mom went to school with Jackie and remained friends with her for the rest of her life. Jackie had a daughter named Stephanie who was not much older than me. Maybe 2 or three years. We played together when we were young, then Stephanie moved to California. We sporadically kept in touch through letters. Dean and I drove to San Diego the summer we spent in Los Angeles and had dinner at a Mexican restaurant with Stephanie and her partner at the time, and maybe her son. More recently Stephanie and her husband visited us here in Bethesda and we spent some time visiting with her in LA one afternoon. Even more recently we’ve kept in touch on Facebook and through texts.

When my mom died and I helped clear out her house I came across Stephanie’s mom and dad’s wedding portrait. I texted a photo of it to Stephanie and asked if she was interested in it. She said she was so I put it in the pile of things to take home so I could mail it to her.

Once I got home I went through every box I’d brought from my mom’s house and couldn’t find it anywhere; I assumed I’d not packed it after all. I asked my brother to check to see if he could find it when he was in the house. No luck. I asked the estate sales people if they came across it. No luck. I told Stephanie the bad news and I could tell that she was disappointed, but said it was okay.

Fast forward 7 years to yesterday afternoon. I’d previously thought I’d emptied all the boxes of “Mom’s stuff” that I’d hidden under the guest bed, but found one last box yesterday. I pulled letters, photos, newspaper articles and drawings out of the box and found a legal sized envelope on the bottom that contained more photos and a cardboard folder with the logo of a long-gone Elgin photography studio on the front. Inside was the wedding photo of Stephanie’s parents. It’s soon to be on its way to her house.

In addition to that photo, I am also inclosing a 1959 Christmas card with a photo of young Stephanie on the front and a note from Jackie on the back. In it she mentions that Stephanie had been talking about me often. They’d moved to San Diego at some point that year, I think.

Stephanie lost her mother in the past year or two, and her father’s been gone a while. I feel like something has come full-circle — me sending Stephanie the photos and note (and writing a note, although mine is typed and not in green ink).

That’s all.

Two Personal Shrines

Family, Friends, Memories, ,

I’ve just come across two framed shrines that meant something to me in my younger years. One I put together, one was put together by my mom.

The first is a collection of a photo, a pen and ink drawing and some pressed flowers. I made it while I was dating an Englishman. The photo is of Jeremy as a toddler. The drawing was made between the time we met in Elgin (March 1974) and the time I visited England (June 1974). It depicts a tree on a lakeshore beside a stone circle. I’m not sure about the flowers — the one below the photo was something special from Jeremy’s father’s garden — an alpine plant of some sort. The two on the other side — one looks like a pansy and the other might be a bluebell.

The second framed shrine was given to me my my mom after they cut down my climbing apple tree. It was probably a Christmas present long after I’d moved out. I was very much attached to that tree. I named it Charlie after a neither asked if it was a Jonathan. I spent many summer days in the tree, often writing in my journal, always gathering strength. It’s no wonder I had my high school graduation photo taken with Charlie — it was truly a part of me.

Old Writing: Untitled

Writing, , ,

While I am unsure of the class this was written for or my age at the time of its writing, I do remember writing this and being very proud of the phrase, “…explode in a fatal shot of a gun being fired and the scream of pain as the bullet hit its mark.”

Now that I have finished transcribing it, I think it was written from a prompt of a black and white photo of a young man sitting on a balcony. It might have been in high school — possibly Freshman year.

Ever since they were children, Rene's brother, Ryan, was the favored one. Ryan always had the best things, toys in the beginning, then more important things. Ryan even had better women. They said that it was because Ryan was older. Could be, could be.

These thoughts, plus many others passed through Rene's mind as he sat on the balcony of the unused ballroom of his huge home, waiting. Waiting for when the fatal "there he is" would ring out from below.

Rene had no emotion. No fear, sadness, remorse, or even the hateful jealousy he had felt for as long as he could remember. It had subsided into a dull hardness. Hardness was all he felt. His face was set in a hard expression.

He could now hear voices in the passage before the old ballroom. The voices faded into a dream and he was back in his brother's room as he had been only a quarter of an hour before. He heard, now he felt again the terrible, horrible jealousy that he had kept under control for the past seventeen years explode in a fatal shot of a gun being fired and the scream of pain as the bullet hit its mark.

The voices returned, louder than before, closer. The moment was near when he would see his father's wrath and hurt and his mother's expression of unbelievability, hate, and pain all mingled into one.

The door opened; from his viewpoint he could see quite clearly the five people of the small party -- Mother, Father, local father of the church, and two neighbors. It was now that his fear gripped him, it tore through his body like fire. What to do? He could try to escape, he knew a stairway beyond the far wall. It was a chance, unless..., unless he jumped. It was another chance. It would end all his problems. 

He knew no fear like this fear as he heard his mother cry, "There he is!"

"Oh God, help me," pleaded Rene, "help me endure what I am going to..."