Letters Unsent
I'm working on my third book, Letters Unsent. It is a collection of literary short essays written in prose. The book is nearly complete, yet remains a work in progress. Below are a few of the essays I've created for the book.
Take Me as I Am
I’ve gotten a little older
rounder, stiffer, sorer.
I don’t see as well.
My hair has less shine,
less pep in my step.
I’m wiser than I once was.
Smarter, too.
Not as quick to judge.
Yet I move more slowly.
I can’t do the things I used to.
You say I’m not who I once was.
You rail against the obligation
that comes with caring for me.
But you miss the pain I carry
the longing to return to a reality
where every movement doesn’t hurt.
I have a soul that remembers
the freedom and exquisite ecstasy
of moving without abandon and impunity.
I dream of running,
of dancing,
of swaying in the breeze.
I am a mind
placed in this body
imperfect and wearing,
but still me.
And I cannot apologize
for the body I have,
for the pain I experience,
or for what you must endure.
Because this body is mine.
It is all of me.
And with all its faults and limitations,
it is mine
and it loves me.
So I scream to you,
And speak to the heavens,
because this I must insist:
Take me as I am.
All of me.
Take me for who I am.
The flaws and the enemies.
Accept that which I cannot change
for I already have.
I need you on board,
or at least not against me.
And if you cannot stand with me,
then I insist that you leave.
For I can live with the body I have,
but I cannot exist
in apology.
Gangs of Cats
There’s a firm in town
fancy, shiny, bright
and now it has the staff to match.
They are indoor cats.
White and fluffy, sleek and smooth,
well-groomed, unafraid of people.
When you walk through the door,
they meow politely,
curl in your lap,
offer kindness, softness, warmth.
Perfect for the luxury environment
they’re meant to inhabit.
Across town, on the wrong side of the tracks,
there’s another firm
same business, different cats.
These ones are strays.
Rough around the edges.
Missing an eye.
Crooked ears.
A mouth full of bad teeth.
They hiss if you get too close.
The business leaves food out for them at night,
hoping they’ll stick around.
And yet—
they work.
They’re the outdoor cats.
They hunt.
They chase.
They catch the prey
and bring it back.
They’re assertive, scrappy, relentless
and the market demands exactly that.
Both firms do the same thing.
Both groups of cats serve a purpose.
Both deliver results.
But they need to be handled
entirely differently.
They flourish under different conditions,
different expectations,
different versions of care.
I’m not sure what the point is,
except that I noticed this:
the bigger the business,
the clearer it becomes
that not every cat is meant to purr in your lap—
and not every cat needs to.