Until it seeps into our pores and we are nothing but Sweetness itself

Darling,

I hope I don't lose my train of thought, the smoothness of my ideas. I was about to take a shower before dinner when I heard Daddy shouting, fighting with Betsy. I tried to listen, but all I could discern was the plaintive quality of my daddy's voice towards his wife. And it broke my heart.

He slammed out into the backyard, walked across the grass, and then started to cry. I almost didn't believe it at first, but I could hear it clearly from the upstairs window. He was standing in the garden, crying. The moonlight flickered across him, and for a moment I began to sob myself, but somehow swallowed the tears.

It was in that moment - something struck me deep inside, and I arrived at an understanding, a clear picture of something that had always been blurry. I thought of you, and suddenly I wanted to hold you and pour everything out of my heart. All the thoughts I've been keeping to myself, afraid to give them away. Afraid of being wrong, or being rejected, or losing them to the wind and never feeling them again.

I showered in the dark, with nothing but a solitary glimpse of light from the window pouring onto a couple tiles on the wall. I felt a profoundness in that moment - a peace that contained a piece of purity. I couldn't grasp it, couldn't hold it in my hands, but I could feel it, just as I could feel the water slipping off my fingers. My fingertips could no sooner grasp those water droplets than my mind could grasp a complete understanding of what was happening inside me - what was happening in the universe an that moment.


* * * *

I went to Daddy and I hugged him. He cried some more. We sat down at the kitchen table and haphazardly attempted to eat dinner with Betsy. Beyond being awkward, this arrangement only resulted in another fight between the two of them, and Betsy claiming to pack her bags and leave. All Daddy could do was hang his head and say, 'I'm so tired'� and 'We should be so happy.'

I sat there watching the scene play out before me, in the hazy yellow light of the kitchen.

I pushed my plate away and placed my napkin over what was left of my meal.

 

We should be so happy.

* * * *

I turned up the heat of the water until it burned against my skin; then I melted into the shadows of the shower.

You and me� We could go beyond this. That's what I thought about in that shower. I'm writing all this to you because I think perhaps you will understand. I want to go beyond this - beyond the temporal world... into the eternal. And the only eternal sphere is that of Love. Many believe in it, but they don't believe in themselves enough to enter it.

Oh, you just called me. From the Whistling Swan. It is timing like that which only makes me believe these thoughts all the more.

What am I trying to say? Like I said, the feeling is there but the words are so slippery.

The eternal: I want to enter it with you. I want to go beyond the bickering and the bashing, the sarcasm and the scathing remarks. I want to go beyond work and school and eating and sleeping (perhaps not sleeping, if it means laying next to you). I want our ages and our scenes and our pasts to mean nothing. I want it to be you and me, thrown together into a cruel, chaotic world, and I want to survive it - with you. I want to live on a different level, one where everyday concerns and jealousies, remarks and ill-meaning people cannot touch us.

Of course we still have to live our lives. We cannot escape to a mountain retreat and live solely with nature (as wonderful as that may sound), but what we can do is change the way we live, the way we think and breathe and speak. We can look at the beauty, at the things that are good and true. Sadness is everywhere, pain is everywhere, but so are happiness and sweetness.

Let us cherish the sweetness; swim in it, really,

Until it seeps into our pores and we are nothing but Sweetness itself.


* * * *

Okay, I lost my train of thought. I'm sitting here and I understand, but I can't write it correctly, coherently. I'm so scared that it's slipping away, that I won't feel it again and I can't share it enough with you. I want you to understand, I want you to want it, too.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I love you. My love for you is potentially my one great love - it's too soon to know, really, but what is time? I feel like we have been together foreve, when in fact we've been together for a heartbeat, and forever is before us. The question is: how will we live that forever? How will we treat the moments that are given to us? One of us could slip away tomorrow; I can't imagine you not being in my life.

So let us cherish every second, let us be awed by Love and the way it slips under the skin and refuses to let go. Let us be love personified. Let us... be happy.

* * * *

Sometimes on early fall days, I walk outside and everything is still. The air is hung suspended, and my skin is transparent with sweetness. There is a softness to the air, a cold layer of silk across my skin. I can barely move in those moments; I can barely breathe. I feel as though the earth has wrapped itself around me and made me it's own: I feel home there, in that sensorial present.

That is how I felt in that shadowy shower, feeling the feelings I have towards you, and the feelings I have towards life.

Those two ideas flow together so well. You. Life. You. Life.       You.

Forever,

Your Karabelle

Reviews

[Edmund Jonah]

Karabelle - I am going to be one small voice in the cacophony of praise bleated at you. I came to you via your thanks to Jamie Beckett on his review of this piece. And now I have put myself in the place of the one who receives this letter. I take it Betsy, who is at the heart of the controversy with DAD, is the sister of the writer.

Let's start with the very first sentence - which is, in fact, a stopper.
"I hope I didn�t lose my train of thought, the smoothness of my ideas."
You haven't said anything, or written anything, so how can you lose your train of thought? Perhaps you should have written: I hope I don't lose etc.

Having written that, you still don't have the right to lose entirely the thought process in your story. You have to be subtle and lose only so much as to add verisimilitude to the characters and writing. You have gone so far out that you confuse your reader. For instance, you seem to be going in and out of your shower. Just when I think you are finished with the soap and water, you're back in there!

You tend to use confusing adjectives to describe Dad so we don't quite understand what he feels.
"I heard Daddy shouting, fighting.." "all I could discern was the plaintive quality of my daddy�s voice. And it broke my heart." "He stomped out into the backyard, and started to cry."
Plaintive and started to cry (both of which denote sadness) do not go with 'shouting,' 'fighting' and 'stomped' (which depict anger). Was he angry or sad? If he were shouting and fighting, he could never have been plaintive and if he cried, it would probably derive from a sense of complete frustration.

Why none of your readers was able to see these contradictions is beyond me. For me, it served only to stress how a talented writer can lose so much by not revising and editing the work - several times. This piece could have been wonderful if you had taken that trouble and then made an effort to organize your thoughts. And definitely not punctuate your work to read like the jerking of a car in traffic. Example:

"It was that moment. Something struck me deep inside. An understanding, a clear picture of something that had been blurry."

Far more effective would be: At that moment, something struck me deep inside, an understanding, the clearing of a once blurry picture. This lets the reader's mind flow along with the narrative and not stop every couple of seconds.

Another example of this jumpy style which does not go with the theme of your story:

"Sadness is everywhere, pain is everywhere, but so are happiness and sweetness.

Let us cherish the sweetness; swim in it, really,

Until it seeps into our pores and we are nothing but Sweetness itself."

Why can't you simply say: Sadness and pain are everywhere, but so are happiness and sweetness. Let us cherish the sweetness; swim in it, until it seeps into our pores and we are nothing but Sweetness itself.
Let us swim in the flow of your words - not bounce about.

Watch your grammar too.
The air is hung suspended.. It should read The air hangs suspended.

And then, once again, you are out of the shower!
Okay, I lost my train of thought. I�m sitting here and I understand...
Where are you sitting? At a desk in your room? On a garden bench? On your bed after the shower? Don't let your reader ask questions. You break his trend of thought that way.

This could be a beautiful piece but it needs a lot of work. I hope you will apply yourself to it as I believe it deserves attention.

Happy writing.

[Karen Kalbacher]

I think the thoughts and the words are elegant. I don't think I would ever have the guts to send something like this to a lover. I'm a little confused on who Betsy is but I am guessing this is a small piece of a largr memoir. Otherwise you need a little clarity there. I wasn't sure if she were your sister or your father's girfriend.

[Marti Wukelic]

My favorite part of your writing is that you touch lightly but with profound depth. Don't know whether it'll make sense or not but that's the only way I can describe it. Sort of the opposite of heavy handed, but has a great impact.

[Nathan Strange]

This is a pure cry from the heart, I loved it because it was raw!

[Dapharoah69 The King Of..]

Your imagery pretty lady leaves one to think, damn, where do you get your inspiration from. This is stellar writing, very incredible.

[Jamie Beckett]

It's been said that the age of letter writing is dead. After reading Kara's "Until is seeps..." I have to disagree. With words so evocative flowing so smoothly across the page, she's done a wonderful job of capturing an emotional moment in a series of beautiful paragraphs.

The fact that she shares almost no real insight into actions of the characters is wonderful. The reader knows very little about what came before, except that there was pain involved. Similarly, there is little indication of where the writers future might lead. But she is clearly hopeful. Anything is possible - absolutely anything.

This is good writing. Clean, emotional, filled with passion. If writing of this caliber were more common, the age of letters would be in fine form.

The rest of us will have to be thankful that Kara was good enough to share this wonderful piece of writing. I can only hope there will be more to come along these lines.

The girl has talent.

[Rebirth And Introspecti..]

Wow. I don't think I have ever read a letter and felt it so vividly. This is so beautiful, it's words, the overflow of emotion, the passion. You describe everything with such ability that it puts the reader in the shower, perhaps one of the shadows you faded into... it's stunning. I'm new to the Cafe, but so far, I love my exploration. Thankyou for your part in my journey :)

[Jason C. Weed]

I'd been doubting that I ever felt so strongly, or would again. The memories are faded and don't have the intensity the emotions did at the time, to the point that I'd forgotten how intense they really can be. This reminded me. Thanks a million!

[Kemari Blue]

Rather bittersweet for me to read something struck with so much raw honesty.. I used to love like that, seek that tender tomorrow. Now, not so much. But you captured the essence of that urgent love so breathtakingly. It makes me hopeful that that kind of love does exist, beyond the realm of the physical, to the eternal planes of existence.. you're right, so many of us don't believe in ourselves enough to enter it..for me, I don't believe in love. Excellent writing..

[Lars]

sorry, that was me as the guest reviewing that,,,didn't know I'd be stuck with that guest moniker until I filled out some stuff, gomenisai