Dearest Rachel -
I know it's weird for me to comment on the titles of these letters; as far as I'm concerned, it's weird for letters to have titles in the first place. But when they're set out in this blog format, it seems they need something to distinguish one from another. This isn't necessarily a series of chronological "tell me about your day, honey" missives, after all; sometimes, my mind goes places that have nothing to do with the events surrounding me on a given day (well, for the most part – there's usually something that triggers these thoughts), and just slapping a date at the top doesn't give you an idea of what I'm about to talk about.
Then again, you might see this title, and think it's another one of those complaints about how every day is much the same as the next, and how I don't have much to write to you about today that's particularly unique. And while I've sent you letters like that on more than one occasion already (for which I apologize for being so tiresome, but I'm sure you remember days like that), this isn't one of those. If nothing else, the holiday season – both the one just concluded, and the run-up to the one at the end of next month – gives an added touch of color to the days (which, given that the foliage surrounding us has just lost theirs, is a welcome thing) that keeps things from being too bland and boring.
Although, speaking of the season, it is sort of what brought this on. I follow a Twitter (well, Elon calls it "X" these days, but you wouldn't necessarily know that, and most of us are still adjusting to it ourselves) aggregator, and every so often, along with the news-related threads, it will put out the occasional "just for fun" segment – in this case, predicated on a public service announcement put out by a state wildlife commission about the dangers one may encounter when going "over the river and through the woods / to grandmother's house…"
I'm sure it would be funnier if I was familiar with the song "Fast Car," which I guess someone just recently covered as a country song, sending it back to the top of the charts (and getting certain people's knickers in a twist, as it has been originally written and performed by a rainbow woman of color a number of years ago, thereby prompting horrified cries of "cultural appropriation" or some such. Kids, she's getting a second stream of royalties from this, so settle down).
Thankfully, the Oklahoma Department of Wildlife Conservation goes into a little more detail about the situation, for the sake of drivers in that state (and really, anyone who might come across their tweets, as it's something to bear in mind if one is driving in any rural area in which deer might reside):
We've literally been down this road, haven't we, honey? You might remember how we all but totalled my Toyota Starlet some time between Christmas and New Year's of 1991 on our way back from watching Beauty and the Beast in Keokuk (the only place even remotely near you that was still showing the film). Somewhere in Hancock County, there was a deer on the road, just staring at us (and specifically, our headlights, as they do); when I tried to swerve around it, it jumped into my new path. We hit it, and went spinning some 270 degrees before coming to a stop – one of the few times I ever heard you scream. The deer was hurt, but not so much that, when I got out to look at it (and the damage on the car), it couldn't run away, albeit on three legs. As for the car, well… it could drive, yes, but the tire scraped against the wheel well the whole way home, and we spent a few hours the next day at the local auto dealership (I don't remember what, but I think it may have been a Ford place) while they worked on the body such that it was functional for my trip back home, at least. So, yeah… a little warning about the dangers of deer would have been nice to have back then.
Of course, we still didn't know much about that period known as "the rut." I don't think I was aware of the expression until we started to watch Northern Exposure on the regular There was an episode in which town bar owner Holling Vincouer suffered from it – and although 'suffered' might not be quite the right word for it, it did seem to affect his ability to communicate with anyone but his young wife Shelley (and mostly in a "up them stairs, woman" kind of way) and therefore, to run his bar and hotel effectively. Meanwhile, Shelley seemed to be able to deal with it with a certain about of equanimity; not necessarily overjoyed at his nearly animalistic attentions, but not bothered by them, either – she was just… content with the situation.
All of which might lead you to believe that I'm about to complain about your not being here if I get into one of those moods. It is Saturday morning, after all; is that what's on my mind? Well, I'd be lying if I tried to deny it too vociferously, but in fact, I've gotten somewhat used to that no longer being a part of my life. Obviously, I don't want it out of my life forever – it's one of the many reasons I'm still looking for Megumi, as you might guess – but it's by no means the only thing I'm missing.
Indeed, it's one thing to have that stripped out of my life, but it's only the final stage on an entire continuum of touch that's been removed from it, which makes it all so much worse. Watching the football games the other day, I was struck by the number of jewelry commercials there were (or maybe just that I noticed how many of them there were; they've probably always been there in years past, since the entire family might be watching on Thanksgiving when they might not on any other given Sunday). The giver was always rewarded with a kiss – indeed, one of the stores' slogans states that every kiss begins with them – at which point, I realized how long it had been since I'd even kissed a girl. For all I know, you may still have been my last, as I haven't felt comfortable enough to do so with any of my dates yet, and those I might feel comfortable with, I recognize that the feeling might well not be mutual.
Indeed, even the simple act of draping my arm around someone is verboten. When Kerstin was over for the holiday meal (and the hanging around afterwards while everything was digesting), there were a couple of moments where I realized I had almost unconsciously set my arm on the chair she was sitting in, at which point, I quickly retracted it. I certainly don't want to give a wrong impression, but when it's been second nature for so long, it's hard to remember what I ought not to do, since it.
And it's this level of self-restraint that's starting to get difficult. I'm not on the verge of darting across a four-lane highway without looking, but if Eli is to be believed, I'm not doing as well as I should be, all my efforts to improve my health notwithstanding. And for now, there's really nothing I can do about it.
So with that being said, honey, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I'm going to need it.
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