My Darling Clarence

My Darling Clarence,

Seeing your writing on this paper gave me such relief to know you were well. Though I wish this paper would prove to be a window through which I could simply reach my hand through and feel you to remember your reality. It seems so long since we have been apart, though I know time only moves as slow as it does in my heart because it longs for you.

I know your cause is a just one. I hold my head high even to those that would quietly whisper as I enter the room. I wonder if they think me deaf? I know they whisper of your adventurous pursuit of that which they do not believe in. I can almost hear them “What would wild natives be able to tell us about health?” To them I say, what sort of people are we if we do not strive, by any means, possible to better ourselves, to help others, to end suffering. I do not need to be betrothed to you to be your defender or support. I know in my heart and in my mind that your travels are for the greater good. It is too bad that people without vision are driven by ego and not passion to know more, to acquire that vision.

The children I teach ask me peculiar questions sometimes. It makes me wonder if the parents aren’t speaking to them or speaking loudly enough that perhaps they hear. They ask all sorts of questions about the jungle and why someone would go so deep into the darkness of the world. The headmaster also spoke with me asking me how you faired. I thought it a peculiar question for one so removed from our private lives.

I still do the ladies luncheon teas though and for the most part all I notice are occasional glances my way from some of the High Society women. They are the stagnation of change. The very epitome of it, I should say. I simply raise my head higher and nod and smile at them.

I try to write, but it seems lately since you’ve been gone my inspiration has faded to longing poems, and broken pieces of writing that want for completion but lack the means to find it. I will be traveling soon to the gardens in the park where they’ve recently opened a section for the planting of flowers and the like by the community. I’ve planted roses there. I hope that my success with them is evident in the beautiful fruits of these exotic scented flowers. Your orchid sounds exquisite, I can almost see it. I imagine its smell to be something I have only dreamed of, floral yet light, delicate yet strong. This orchid represents you to me now, so I will learn more of them and be sure to have plenty of varieties on hand for your return.

As the day moves on and at night when it becomes quiet, I long for the comfort of your presence. Sometimes I leave the windows open and the breeze comes in washing over me. I can almost hear your voice whispered to me on that breeze. It comforts me to know that somewhere you are seeing the same sky I am even if yours is light while mine is dark.

I can’t imagine being where you are without any comfort of modern society. I wish I could somehow miraculously show up where you are with a basket of your favorite things to ease your time away from home. For now though, all I can give you is the enclosed piece of material of mine. I’ve taken the liberty of scenting it with the jasmine and lavender scents you love to smell on me so much. May it fly swiftly to you and give you the breath of air that I breathe too. And may it carry my love to your heart to tide you until we meet again.

In spirit and heart,
Cherie

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