Coyote Moon (coyote_moon) wrote,
Coyote Moon
coyote_moon

Letters

Ever pick a book off the shelf at the library, look at the cover and take it home? Cliche, right? We aren't supposed to make snap judgements. Aren't supposed Togo by instinct. Yet ever since I was small I had this faith that books we're put in my path for a reason. They appeared at just the right time to impart wisdom, act as a mirror or entertain.

As a senior in high school, I was so sick I couldn't play volleyball. My balance was messed up and because I couldn't play my mom was upset because she couldn't stand on the football field and get handed a flower. I was emotional and raw over fighting her. I was depressed and sick. My boyfriend called when I was in the bath and my mom brought me the phone I told him I didn't feel well, didn't know what to do and hung up. I lay in the water a long time and soon my mom came in again carrying a book. My boyfriend had dropped it off. I dried my hands and opened the front cover and found a sticky note with the word "Smile". The book was just what I needed. The Peaceful Warrior. (don't judge!)

When I was going through my religious questioning phase, I found I could open the bible to any page, point my finger and the answer would be revealed.

One more: I'd always been told about the unbearable lightness of being. Bought a copy and had it sitting on the shelf for the longest time. I always meant to read it. Wanted to read it. Even when I opened the cover, I couldn't read it. Until, the days boy left me bawling in the rain in his driveway. Suddenly, the book opened to me and in it I could find what I needed.

Tonight, I found Letters". Advice from a grandpa to his granddaughter, to Emily. It reminded me so much of my journal to my baby. I started it the moment I found out I was pregnant. I started collecting advice, telling her stories, sharing what I knew of the world. I may not write much here anymore or tell the stories I know I should write. But here was an audience far more precious. Here was something worth writing for. . .

Until there wasn't anymore. I ended up in the hospital the morning after the work Christmas party. Bleeding. They are planning the party again. It will be held at the same place as last year. Almost to the day. The last time I wrote her I told her I was sorry for heaping so much on her. It isn't in the pregnancy books- how many hopes you can pin to one child. They don't warn you. They just tell you that it happens. That it is common.

They say giving birth will hurt. This hurts much more.

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