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| Postcard from Redhook ....another postcard from Redhook River. This one makes the third in two months. They appear in my little one room apartment, usually stuck under the door. The writing looks solid, until morning comes....when it starts to fade. By noon there's nothing left. "Hi, Momma," this one says, which is odd, because I have no children, "I'm happy." The signature is always illegible. It looks like someone is writing the main message, while the real sender can only handle a shaky signature. The last one said, "Momma, I couldn't stand the room no more -- so hot, so dry. Don't feel bad for me. I love you. You were always good to me." The signature...a W...and the rest a scrawl. Tonight is hot. Clouds are forming, but the won't cool the air-- fans are no good, the hunidity is terrible. I'm so tired all the time, and sometimes what I cough up doesn't have just spit in it. I dn't care no more. I'm old and tired and haven't got nothing left anyway. Lightning juts the sky now and again. It reminds me of the night my cat ran aay. I got him from a flea market, and always meant to give him away, but no one ever wanted him, and I just got attached. One night, I opened the window, and breathed in hot, thick air. Billy pitched out the window, landing on a ledge. I tried to catch him, but he fell three stories down, I rean downstairs, trying to save the poor stupid thing's life and bring it back, but it was gone. Probably to die under someone's porch. Damn. About a month after that I got the first postcard. "Redhook is made from dreams, Momma," it said. On the other side of the postcard was a real pretty picture of a river, and written on it -- Redhook. The stamp had fallen off, and it was hand-cancelled. At first I thought it was a mistake, and later I ghought maybe someone was mean and making fun of me 'cause I'm not so pretty anymore, and I never was all that smart. No matter, though, I'm starting to think Redhook's real. This last postcard is a photo. It's of a forest. So pretty, so clean...it looks so cool and moist. The weird thing is that there's like little toads and things in it-- all dressed up like the 1880's. It looks like a children's book-- except the picture's aren't drawn-- they're real. This last one says, "Redhook's where the good animals go. The two-legs aren't supposed to go there-- but I got you in, Momma. Wait for me. I'm coming for you." On this one, the signature's lots more clear. I guess Billy or William, is learning to write better. I guess I'll wait here a bit. Redhook looks nice. ---Kathleen Youmans, copyright 2001 |
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