I have only a few left, time to go buy some more. I sent one to my grandmother (Dad’s side). I’ve not written to her much. Actually, I’ve not written to much of anyone much at all. People enter my thoughts often, and I miss them, but sitting down and writing letters is not something that pops into my mind. For someone who writes about his thoughts as much as I do, this seems a bit odd.
I had come to the conclusion over the past weekend that I was staying in Eugene. I missed my family greatly, but I loved this town. It wasn’t a decision that gave waves of positive feelings, for the mixture was equally gladness at staying in my new home of Eugene, but also sadness in missing my family. There are always losers in a war.
Speaking of war, the battle scene in my book in progress, has turned out to be long (still fighting) and odd. It isn’t what I thought the battle would be when the force left the city, and I’m trying to write the battle from four (possibly five) points of view… simultaneously! Gee whiz. However, I must keep in my mind while writing that this is a rough draft, the important thing is to get it all on paper. I know that the NANOWRIMO deadline has passed and I am only at 21,000 words. But I am not undaunted. I can make excuses all day, blame it on enemployment and stress and so forth. But more interesting to me is what happens next in the novel.
Back to the point. I am sending one small batch of cards out today. When I get rent paid, hopefully in about a week, I’ll go get another batch of cards and send out more. In the card to my grandmother (whom I’ve written to very little since I was a kid) I wrote that I did love her, that I had her picture on my wall, that I thought of her often when I am outside. My grandmother, Elsie, is known throughout southern Arkansas as a woodswomen. She’s even inspired a character in a book (my dad has a copy of it at home, I’ve yet to read it) and if she dies out in the forest it will be in a place that she loves (as opposed to a hospital bed). Some of us hold it in our hearts that when her time comes, we’ll find her sitting against a tree out in the middle of the woods. A peaceful end for a woman who loved the forest. I think of her often, especially when I am out among trees. I wrote to her and told her that I loved her and that I felt that I was like a seed, born away from the thicket by the wind and that I had found a patch of sunshine where I felt that I could grow. I know that she’ll understand what I mean by this.