Thursday, August 30, 2007
Can You Go Home Again?
Hello, my name is Sara and I am five years old. I am fabulousness in the making; or something like that.
Actually I am forty years old and I am almost there. I am almost brave enough to mail some letters. Today I wrote three letters to people I've never met and I am going to take a deep breath and mail them right to their homes. I think I am. If I can get very brave for just a few minutes longer. I know exactly where these strangers live. I know where they eat and sleep and hang their clothes. I'm not a stalker. You see, they live in my houses.
I want to see my houses again. If the strangers who live there now will let me, I want to take pictures too. I want to touch the walls and see if like I suspect, the rooms have gotten smaller. I'm drawn to this journey and there's nothing left to do but get started. I am writing letters to ask if I can come home again for a minute or an hour. I think I'll enclose a copy of a picture to prove that a long time ago a little girl with parted-down-the-middle hair dreamed dreams and read books and wore silly Easter hats there. I wonder if we left happiness in the ceilings and the walls? I hope so.
I am going to mail letters to three homes...Clippert Street, The Farm and The Pine House (where my grandparents lived when I was small.) I wonder if anyone will respond? I think I would.
I have to go now and try to be very brave at the mailbox. I'll let you know what happens.