Chapter 66
From the ferry between Seattle and Bainbridge Island
5/25/94
Dear Frida,
I’ve been sitting on the ferry all morning riding back and forth between Seattle and Bainbridge Island. I like to sit on the deck and let my brain dip and soar like the seagulls. When I’m on the water it makes me feel closer to Bumpa.
I brought all of your letters with me. It’s taken almost three coffees to read them start to finish. It’s so weird we’ve never met face-to-face. We’ve been through so much together. I wonder what would have happened in our lives if you had told Kirby to stick it and wrote to your L.A. bookstore for Martha. Or if someone else at my store decided to answer your letter. Can you imagine? It makes me sick thinking about it. I bet I’d still be a brain-jittering insecure mess without you and your renegade exclamation marks. (My brain still jitters, obviously with all the coffee and because I’m still figuring out life, but at least you’ve helped me tidy up my insecurities so they’re not spilling all over the place.)
Just because you’re not New Yorker material doesn’t mean this isn’t your story. I’d like to share a little something from one of your letters. And I quote: “This is it, Kate – this is MY story.” These are your exact words from Sarajevo. This is most definitely your story, whether or not you go to Vietnam. Are you going to Vietnam? Vietnam! Inquiring minds are dying to know.
I’m getting my footing with Sven gone, even though he’s still in my life courtesy of the U.S. Postal Service. The other night I went out for tapas and Four Weddings and a Funeral with Kids Books Josephine, Fiction Section Polly, and Travel Section Jane, and when I got home there were three letters and this postcard:
“There is a difference between missing the past, and longing for the future; we get used to being without the things that have passed away; we never get used to being without the things that have not yet come; we end by ceasing to think of those; we never cease to think of these.” – Henry James
It’s heartbreaking, Frida. All the “yet to come” we shared is gone. Some days I ache for what could have been so badly I can’t stop crying, but I know I did the right thing. I spent Sunday in a book coma rereading A Circle of Quiet . Madeleine constantly searches for the meaning of life, but her search is the polar opposite of Sven’s. His arms are crossed tight as a vise over his chest, while her arms are flung open wide. He’s already decided on the certainties he’s searching for because he needs his suffering to make sense. She’s committed to “the unknown and unknowable.” He needs answers to everything, but she says, “To define everything is to annihilate much that gives us laughter and joy.”
When I finished Madeleine, I got an urge to reread Moon Tiger , too. It feels like I discovered it a lifetime ago. Remember how blown away I was by how Penelope wrote from so many overlapping points of view? Reading it now I can see it wasn’t just because I’d never encountered a writing style like that before. It was because I’d never experienced life like that before. Billions of different points of view unlike mine. Billions of different versions of life unlike mine. If Sven needs to have his version, that’s his right, but this is my life, so guess what? My version! And what if after I finished reading, my version wanted to decoupage a flower pot? Why? Because doing it made me Genuinely Happy.
I’m tired of feeling conflicted because I like to tear up Martha Stewart magazines and decoupage things. Or frivolous because I’m reading Living a Beautiful Life . Why can’t I read Alexandra Stoddard and Thomas Merton and learn about meaning from each of them! Merton wrote, “For we cannot make the best of what we are, if our hearts are always divided between what we are and what we are not.” Alexandra wrote, “It takes a commitment to enjoy each day fully.” Just because Alexandra wants me to use a pretty checkbook cover to make doing bills more pleasant doesn’t make her advice less valuable. Can’t I love to sing “Porcupine Pie” and still take life seriously? In my version, the answer is yes! (Do you think exclamation marks are contagious? I think I’ve caught a case of yours!!)
There’s another packet waiting for you at the AmEx office.
Love,
Kate
P.S. Speaking of When Harry Met Sally . I needed a change. I cut my hair short. A lot of people say it makes me look like Meg Ryan.