Thursday, December 31, 2009

Love Letter to a Decade

Blind I listen to all the little sounds.
How pretty they are.
I arrive and arrive.
Look--I am the statue that thinks it's running.
-from "Everything" by Sarah Manguso

Dear Decade,

This love letter, it's flexible, like our relationship. As it turns out, I've been cheating on you this whole time, spending hours with the past and the future, trying to make sense of our difficulties. I've been distant, I know, but you, the first real time span of my adult life, you've been moody and vindictive. Since we've been together, Decade, I've lost pieces of myself I didn't realize one could lose. I lost my father and a handful of innocence, and you barely slowed down to see if I was still moving. I wanted to break it off with you so many times, but so many more I forced myself to make apologies to your necessity, to come to terms with the reality that you and I, we were stuck with each other.

But now, hours before your end, before I meet a new decade, a new span of time for which to make mixed tapes and write lengthy poems under the guise of night, to love and hate with the same passion I devoted to you, I've decided to make peace with you. I want to remember our time together as something much more complex than a spreadsheet of gains and losses. I want to remember that I grew up with you, and all our fighting aside, you offered me a fullness I couldn't have experienced on my own. Decade, you gave me moments; you gave me moments chained together, nestled and spaced, beautiful and tragic, brief and glorious, you gave me just enough time to realize its value.

Years from now, when I'm getting serious with the next decade and looking back at our years together, I will most likely roll my eyes, scoff at our fights - the silent treatment I gave you too often, the lack of communication that led to too many of our fights, the blame I placed, your refusal to slow down. I will, at some point, realize that we were destined to end and what you needed most was to be taken as you were. I am hoping, in our final hours together, to remember that, to take you as you are, and to try my hardest to follow that rule in my next temporal relationship.

I'll never forget you, Decade. I made you a mix, just to say goodbye the right way.


Zach said...

Just a beautiful post, dear, and I do not think there could be a more perfect mix. Promise me we will get coffee soon?

Brandi and Chelle's mom said...

You have had a decade with some very highs and very lows. But you made it!

Anonymous said...

As crappy as some things have been; they have made you who you are today. And, I like who you are. I suspect there are a few other people that feel the same way. Miss you, but am comforted knowing that you are there.