Thank you for all of your letters. I know you were only speaking metaphorically when you said you write me every day, but they are beginning to make quite a stack.
Things are going really well here—I’m almost too busy. Each class has more students than the last, and we are beginning to burst the seams of the gallery. It may be that I’ll need my own space soon. That’s a scary thought.
Mark is here for a week or so—he comes up when he can, and he is very attentive when he’s here, though he tends to go out with our friends quite a bit. More than I do, if you can believe that.
I find myself back in my studio more and more. I’ve never painted so much in my life. My series of studies on Douglas fir made a little bit of noise at the gallery in Seattle and I feel as though I'm finding some solid ground here, as an artist. Somehow a couple of the prints were picked up by a design studio, and the money, though it’s not insane, has allowed me to quit hustling tables at that restaurant. You remember the one. I wish we could have stayed there all day.
I do miss you, love.
The snow is thick and downy—so high at times it almost blocks the view from my studio window. This is where I write to you when I can. The limbs of the firs bend and pitch crazily in the wind, as if they were trying to get my attention, and the light refracts through the icicles that hang from the eave, splaying pinks and blues across my walls.
I think it is this blanket of silence, and the movement of the trees and the kaleidoscopic light--all of it together--that makes it hard for me to write. This combination of effects only ever happens here, at my desk, and only now, in the late afternoon. It's as if part of you is near and somehow bending the light. It throws a switch inside me, and I feel hollow with longing. Every part of me aches for you. It's all I can do to get out of the room then, and away from you. Or away from that feeling.
Most things that we did, I can still do without a problem. Watching Hallmark or TCM is much like it always was. Even watching Godfrey makes me feel warm and a little sleepy. And I still watch the sky. When it's clear, it seems that there are more stars than sky, and the shooting stars light up my insides rather than being the daggers I thought they might have become.
It's at the oddest times--locking up the gallery after a class, or leaving Basecamp after a nightcap, that I feel your arms around me. Just for a moment, I can feel the warmth of your body. Sometimes I can smell your neck. Or feel your breath in my ear. Do you ever feel things like that?
Please take care of yourself. Get the rest you need. I'm sorry about what happened. Don't worry about me--I'm doing fine. Everything is fine. Rachel is coming next week.
I love you,
@ellowrites @ellopoetry #fictionon #writing #romance #m #mtom