Nellie Windmill

I’ll be turning 28 soon and I guess it’s about time I made a decision and did something one way or another. Twenty eight years ago you gave me up for adoption. I don’t know what I want, whether I want a relationship with you or what that relationship would look like but I do know that when I think about the possibility of getting a phone call or a letter one day, maybe from your daughter, my sister, to say that you’ve passed away, it makes my chest get all squeezy and tight and it becomes hard to breathe and I try not to cry as the tears well up. Or worse, getting nothing and never knowing and one day being too old and realising that you can’t be alive anymore; that I’ve quietly lived my days not thinking about it until it’s too late. So I guess that means I at least need to try. By the way, I’m writing this as the sun is setting. It’s glowing a sort of dark pink red and it’s beautiful.

I can’t say I remember for sure who stopped writing first or who moved without providing a forwarding address but I remember it being you – maybe you remember it as being me. All I know is that I wanted to write to you again; it had been a long time. I wasn’t sure if the address I had would still be yours. I had a phone number. The plan was to call, ask for you and if you still lived there to hang up and write my letter – talking on the phone was more than I could handle. I called, the number had been disconnected. Maybe you even moved because of me, because I had your address and you’d changed your mind. I feel that even if did decide I definitely wanted to find you again that I wouldn’t or shouldn’t because it seems you’ve decided you don’t want to be found and I should respect that.

This is what I will do. I am online – facebook, my blog, twitter, flickr, deviant art – I’m easy to find. You probably know how to use google, you know my name, you can find me if you want to. I figure, I’ve googled your name, my little sister’s name – she’s just old enough now to have a Myspace account – what’s to say you haven’t googled mine. Maybe you already read my blog. This line of thought has brought me to “Letters to Louise” – it’s serendipitous your name starts with an “L”; I like the alliteration.

I might not write frequently – to be honest, I don’t think of you all that much – I don’t say that to be mean (of course you understand, as I believe it’s the same for you). That is to say, we both have lives to lead and all of this is very much in the background, barely ever thought of and even when it is, rarely in any depth.

So all that’s left is to decide what to include in my letters. I have a few “sections” in mind which might change or expand as time goes on.

This is Something I Like

Smelling things. I like the smell of glue and paint and petrol and pens and flour.

This is Something I Remember About You

You gave me a strange little old book full of what you described as hilariously out-dated advice (possibly specifically for young women?) but with some little nuggets of wisdom too. You wrote in the margins, adding your own advice. One thing you suggested was to have a list – maybe 21 or 50, I don’t remember – of women I admire. I must confess I haven’t made my list but I would like one. I don’t even know that many women that well! That’s certainly something I intend to rectify and I am working on it. I worry when I think of this book that I’m not 100% sure where it is. I’m anxious to find it but alas all of my worldly possessions are in boxes on the other side of the world. I will look for it when I get back. I feel exasperation at my adolescent self for not treasuring it. Teenagers!

This is Something I Wonder

Does my little sister know about me and is she on Facebook or Myspace? This brings me to another thing I wonder – how do I spell your last name, because of course I’ve googled it but is it an a or an e and is there a double letter in there? This too is boxed up on the other side of the world.

This is Something I’m Rather Rubbish at

Fixing things – I am the anti-handyman: slightly broken things degenerate before me. I don’t think I got that from my biological father because I have a little piece of paper that says he’s a mechanic so I’m blaming this one on you.

This is Something I did Today

Glued strips of a vintage sewing pattern to the edges of a deep-edged box canvas I’ve almost finished painting – I’m very happy with the results. By the way, it’s for a blogger friend whom I admire – so there’s a woman to get my list off to a start!

P.S. What would a letter be without a “P.S.”! I have an old newspaper laid out to protect the table while I’m painting (as you can see in the photo) and there’s this journalist I just noticed who’s kind of staring at me and he has your last name or some variation of it. Isn’t that weird?