Last Week's Writing Exercise

5/04/2011 , 0 Comments

Here's something old. I'm toying with the idea of trying to tell a story all through letters. Just for the practise. It's been stretching some different writing muscles for me, haha.

'Amelie,

It's three years now and I'm still writing these. Pretty pathetic, huh? Your pathetic priest. Even worse? Every time I come down, I look for a reply from you. You're laughing at me. If our positions were reversed, I might do the same.

Or I would come to you, cradling you against me until neither of us were laughing anymore and our tears unstoppable?

In the center of town they built a rose garden. Right on the roundabout! Can you believe it? The town doesn't have enough people for a stoplight, but we have a garden on our roundabout.

They aren't real roses. You know how closely the Church guards those. And yes, I know unaltered plants wouldn't survive. Still, it would be nice. I'd love to have a real rose to give you instead of these engineered daffodils.

But real or not, you'll love the new garden. Alice May oversaw the project. She got the whole congregation up with the sun and put a shovel in every hand. We worked all day long in the summer sun (which isn't that bad here in Pennsylvania. I just wanted your sympathy). We put the last bush in the ground just as the sun started to set. Imagine all those full blossoms bathed in pale amber light, strong pines shielding them on all sides from the worst of the weather. When the bushes grow taller, they'll form a simple maze for the kids. Doesn't that sound nice? I'd like to get lost for a while. Who could complain when they're surrounded by the fragrance of rose and pine?

Next time I'll bring one of those roses for you.

Love,
Issachar'

Sarah

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