(a letter to my granny written by my puppet abbiegail. i made the stationary on which it was written. i think i was 10 years old.)my mom and dad have been slowly going through the contents of my granny's house. she died last may. they've been sorting and tossing and donating with my uncle's blessing as he and my mother slowly start to let go of a life lived. in amongst all the old food in the freezer, the multitude of unworn clothing and the layers of dust lie treasures that are uncovering parts of me.
it is sad in some ways to look back at the child i was. i was curious and imaginative and never stopped drawing or thinking or dreaming. i had a puppet for a very long time that, in essence, was my alter ego. she was much funnier, brasher,less inhibited and so much less fearful than i and everyone loved her. i think abbiegail was the beginning of zelda.
now i feel like zelda has lost her sass, her brash and her shininess. ok, ok, i'm talking about myself so i should just say i have lost those things. sometimes i look at myself in the mirror and wonder where i went. a puffy, sniveling person is left instead. these treasures on creased, worn pages are a glimpse and a glimmer of who i can be. who i want to be. who i need to be.
(my 6th birthday. mom immediately recognized the lamp over our table in the kitchen in the house of my childhood. dad remembered hanging all the balloons and streamers.)
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