Writer's Notebook

Unsent letters. The idea intrigued me. At the same time a certain dread cast its shadow over my mind. An unsent letter: the perfect way to express my feelings; to say what I really felt about her without having to expose myself. Yet, it could be risky. After all, I was still married; in public we were even still together, even if the truth belied any such interpretation of the word together. How on earth could I be expected to trace the trajectory of such forbidden feelings for another. What if she should find out? What if such feelings were reciprocated? But there was something liberating in that word unsent. Knowing Janice would never read it, knowing no one would ever read it gave me courage, despite the nervous start I made. Once I got going, it flowed. Every little seed of affection that ever flourished in my heart oozed out of my pen and embellished the paper I would ever hide away in the deepest confines of my heart shaped desk. Never had I expressed myself so freely, so beautifully; never had such truth been forced to hide its face from the light of day.

And yet, it cost - such frankness: 10 lines - 3 hours and totally debilitated. I had to get out, away, anywhere, anything... just not think any more. A walk, but even that cost. Simone wanted to walk with me, didn't understand I wanted to be alone. But then how could she? At her age, impossible to understand what was going on between her mother and myself. I put an end to the bickering by walking out. Then my luck changed.

Janet, Dorian, Philip... The three of them together enjoying some afternoon refreshment. I needed something stronger. The wine flowed, my mood cheered. Gone, the lethargy, the doubts, all thoughts of what if... I went back home and spoke the unspeakable. The letter was sent. And now...