Dear Drawer

7 Jun

Dear Drawer

Hello, old friend. How to begin? I’ve neglected you, my longtime correspondent. You were my first eager reader, once the only one who cared what I had to say. I didn’t have much to say then, but still you took whatever it was and held it close to your heart, your wooden heart in a wooden chest of drawers.

You might wonder why I don’t write to you anymore. It’s nothing you did wrong – you were always the best listener, and I learned from you, I learned so much. How to phrase, and the sound of finding the right name for a character, and how to write execrable poetry before moving on to poetry that was merely terrible. You didn’t judge, when what I feared most was being judged, and gave only silent critique when my confidence in my art couldn’t hold up to more than a whisper of a sliding drawer.

The truth is, dear drawer, that I learned from you what was most important, the lesson not to need you anymore. Courage. Self-belief. The fortitude to care about what I wrote but not care if somebody else didn’t care for it. In a way, I’m still writing to you, even if you never see the pages. Because you’re inanimate, and writing to you was writing to me.

Love,

Me

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