Private Correspondence~ Annex12~ Letters by R.A.Barrington

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writegirl@altavista.com

Scoot On Over Next To Me

R.A. Barrington

Take your prism off the shelf of a dark closet and place it on a table in front of a window. Suddenly when the sunlight hits it your eyes will widen and a smile will open your face. Colors of light will be revealed throwing rainbows…yellow, orange, red, violet, blue, and green shooting all over the walls of the room. Joy will rise up inside of you. Secrets of the universe will be revealed. Peace and spirit and wisdom will glisten.

And when the time is perfect, right at that wondrous moment someone will knock on your door. He will smile and say, “I have brought a prism for you.” And you will welcome the stranger without question.

He will walk directly to the table and place his prism next to yours and the rainbow will strike it, enter it, and in that crystalline second you will know he is the one you have been waiting for. It won’t be a maybe, or if he changes, or if we work on it, or anything like that. It will just be fated.

And between the two of you will forever glow a rainbow, intense, forever love…two radiating love back into the universe. Others will sense this special love, but as we all know when two prisms are placed together, yes, a rainbow is shared between them, but the light coming out of the second prism is not a rainbow, it has one again been changed back into ordinary light.

Love like this happens only 1-in-10,000. It is very rare.

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I, the birdgirl, am hip to it and I won’t turn away any prism man.

We will place our prisms together and have peanut butter sandwiches for lunch, grilled cheeses and French fries for dinner. On Sundays around noon we will have eggs and bacon and toast and decaf. We will celebrate our birthdays with pancakes.

We will have children, no SUV though. We will live on a lake and have a forest for a backyard. We will make music, and sing, and just be very very happy.

On days when it rains, we will just hold each other tighter until the sun shines once again.

And when he is 72 and he dies I will take him to the desert in Africa. In three days his bones will be burnished clean. I will reconstruct him and place him in the corner of the living room, so he will be with me always.

Then, very carefully, I will cut off my ears, so I am not intoxicated by the whispers of other men. I will spin in the memories of what we had.

And I will still go swimming in the lake on every sunny summer day….until I die, which will be less than two years later.

Amen