To You, From Me and Back Again xxx
As Christmas approached and gifts had to be bought,
I have struggled with what to buy you…
I wanted a change from real ale and so thought
You may want a change from that too
Or not.
The year had thrown up some surprises for me,
Names and places new to my ears.
I learnt so much more ‘bout our great family
Going back o’er one hundred years
We’re Welsh!
For no matter what tales they all have to share,
The distance created a void.
Better to hear from someone who was there,
(So long as you don’t get annoyed)…
As if.
So read through the questions (they are really not bad),
And let your dry humour pervade.
This is your life as told by you, my dear dad,
So get scribbling, don’t be afraid.
Tee hee!
A small person within a small family
So little is known of its past.
However, it’s true,
That thanks largely to you
The tales that I have are quite vast.
But there’s richness within the words that you choose,
The characters that shaped your childhood
Are vivid to me,
I can practically see
Them. So write it down, if you would!
Love Lizzie
©Lisa Lee, 2012. Sleeping in Open Letters
Dear Boys,
Remember me? I’ll lay odds-on that you do. I was the small, peculiar girl in the weird clothes that wouldn’t sleep with you but loved you just the same. The girl who casually accepted the unacceptable with a nonchalant ease and the girl with the brother who’d have terrorised you had I not been so accepting. Well, I’m not much changed but, thanks to medical enlightenment, I have come to realise that, contrary to my beliefs, I was not the fuck up you all left me thinking I was. Here’s why.
So, whilst I was at secondary school, you were working in one of the local factories. You were my intellectual equal, and my first love. Our families knew each other and you were definitely not the boy ‘my mother warned me about’. (Come to think of it, she never warned me about any boys). I spent every waking hour with you or thinking about you. You’d join me as I babysat for the family up the road and fill my head with your nonsensical ideologies, and our sense of humour was spot on. Long walks across town always culminated in an even longer chat sat on the cold wall outside my house. We’d talk about Thatcher and how she was killing our generation, stealing our future. We discussed our likes and dislikes, man; we’d talk about any old shit! But the chats I remember most are the ones where you told me that, one day, I’d come to your house and find you hanging in your room. I was 15 for fucks sake, and, as I recently found out, chemically unable to deal with extreme emotion. (Though I did try, by offering you a knife, I think). For years I thought I’d done something wrong but, no. It was you.
After (well, in between) all that there was us. There isn’t an awful lot to say about us is there. Only that you were my childhood crush, until I found another. (Love is a fickle thing isn’t it?) We half-heartedly gave a relationship a go but you were not the cutie of my past and as you revealed that after walking me home at night, you carried on to my friend’s house to fuck her, I thought, ‘Cool. You’re not getting it from me so… yeah… needs must.’ What, seriously?? I actually thought that? Well, it is NOT cool! When I look back and wonder where my self-esteem went, I can almost see me handing it over to you. Thanks for that.
College was great and that was where you and I met. We should have been ‘real’. I mean a proper boyfriend and girlfriend thing but I think we were destined to be just friends. I wanted you to take charge, to guide me because I had no idea what to do. Instead you left me, stoned, in the middle of a town, I think. I don’t really remember so you have nothing to feel shit about! I was with you when I learned of the suicide of another ex boyfriend. I was with you when your ex girlfriend broke in with a knife, threatening to kill me. But I wasn’t with you when you finally grew up and did something meaningful with your life, assuming you did, of course!
Finally, we get to you. My knight. I’m really not sure what you saw in me at all you know. I always assumed that you just loved the fact I had tits and a pulse but, as you have since pointed out, many of the girls in the pub (indeed all of them), had tits and a pulse. So, I guess, there must have been something else. Whatever it was you have triumphed where everyone else fell short. And I am so very thankful. Thankful because I am now the woman I always knew I could be. Sure, I’ll always carry that insanity gene but I have learned how to moderate it now, thanks to you (and a daily dose of Thyroxine). It is you alone, though, who has single-handedly built my self-esteem back up to a manageable height. It is you who ensures my soul is kept secure and safe. You are utterly perfect for this bundle of weirdness and I heartedly thank you for your unerring patience.
I am a very lucky nutter :)
Love, forgiveness and all the water under the bridge you require,
Elvegren
©Lisa Lee 2014, sleeping in Open Letters (Illustration by Lady Of Sorrows)
To You, From Me and Back Again xxx
As Christmas approached and gifts had to be bought,
I have struggled with what to buy you…
I wanted a change from real ale and so thought
You may want a change from that too
Or not.
The year had thrown up some surprises for me,
Names and places new to my ears.
I learnt so much more ‘bout our great family
Going back o’er one hundred years
We’re Welsh!
For no matter what tales they all have to share,
The distance created a void.
Better to hear from someone who was there,
(So long as you don’t get annoyed)…
As if.
So read through the questions (they are really not bad),
And let your dry humour pervade.
This is your life as told by you, my dear dad,
So get scribbling, don’t be afraid.
Tee hee!
A small person within a small family
So little is known of its past.
However, it’s true,
That thanks largely to you
The tales that I have are quite vast.
But there’s richness within the words that you choose,
The characters that shaped your childhood
Are vivid to me,
I can practically see
Them. So write it down, if you would!
Love Lizzie
©Lisa Lee, 2012. Sleeping in Open Letters
Dear Boys,
Remember me? I’ll lay odds-on that you do. I was the small, peculiar girl in the weird clothes that wouldn’t sleep with you but loved you just the same. The girl who casually accepted the unacceptable with a nonchalant ease and the girl with the brother who’d have terrorised you had I not been so accepting. Well, I’m not much changed but, thanks to medical enlightenment, I have come to realise that, contrary to my beliefs, I was not the fuck up you all left me thinking I was. Here’s why.
So, whilst I was at secondary school, you were working in one of the local factories. You were my intellectual equal, and my first love. Our families knew each other and you were definitely not the boy ‘my mother warned me about’. (Come to think of it, she never warned me about any boys). I spent every waking hour with you or thinking about you. You’d join me as I babysat for the family up the road and fill my head with your nonsensical ideologies, and our sense of humour was spot on. Long walks across town always culminated in an even longer chat sat on the cold wall outside my house. We’d talk about Thatcher and how she was killing our generation, stealing our future. We discussed our likes and dislikes, man; we’d talk about any old shit! But the chats I remember most are the ones where you told me that, one day, I’d come to your house and find you hanging in your room. I was 15 for fucks sake, and, as I recently found out, chemically unable to deal with extreme emotion. (Though I did try, by offering you a knife, I think). For years I thought I’d done something wrong but, no. It was you.
I hear you’re married now, with a child. I’m relieved you never felt the need to dangle yourself from a light fitting or such like. I’m pleased you’ve moved on and are happy. Most of all I am bloody delighted to have shifted the burden of your insanity from my own. I never really needed it.
After (well, in between) all that there was us. There isn’t an awful lot to say about us is there. Only that you were my childhood crush, until I found another. (Love is a fickle thing isn’t it?) We half-heartedly gave a relationship a go but you were not the cutie of my past and as you revealed that after walking me home at night, you carried on to my friend’s house to fuck her, I thought, ‘Cool. You’re not getting it from me so… yeah… needs must.’ What, seriously?? I actually thought that? Well, it is NOT cool! When I look back and wonder where my self-esteem went, I can almost see me handing it over to you. Thanks for that.
College was great and that was where you and I met. We should have been ‘real’. I mean a proper boyfriend and girlfriend thing but I think we were destined to be just friends. I wanted you to take charge, to guide me because I had no idea what to do. Instead you left me, stoned, in the middle of a town, I think. I don’t really remember so you have nothing to feel shit about! I was with you when I learned of the suicide of another ex boyfriend. I was with you when your ex girlfriend broke in with a knife, threatening to kill me. But I wasn’t with you when you finally grew up and did something meaningful with your life, assuming you did, of course!
Finally, we get to you. My knight. I’m really not sure what you saw in me at all you know. I always assumed that you just loved the fact I had tits and a pulse but, as you have since pointed out, many of the girls in the pub (indeed all of them), had tits and a pulse. So, I guess, there must have been something else. Whatever it was you have triumphed where everyone else fell short. And I am so very thankful. Thankful because I am now the woman I always knew I could be. Sure, I’ll always carry that insanity gene but I have learned how to moderate it now, thanks to you (and a daily dose of Thyroxine). It is you alone, though, who has single-handedly built my self-esteem back up to a manageable height. It is you who ensures my soul is kept secure and safe. You are utterly perfect for this bundle of weirdness and I heartedly thank you for your unerring patience.
I am a very lucky nutter :)
Love, forgiveness and all the water under the bridge you require,
Elvegren
©Lisa Lee 2014, sleeping in Open Letters (Illustration by Lady Of Sorrows)
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