30 Posts in 30 Days Challenge
A Letter
Haven’t spoken to you in a long time, have I?
Дорогая бабушка!
Is this how I used to address you? Dear Grandma, near and dear, precious Grandma? Maybe I called you ljubimaja babushka, a more loving variation of this, one that does not have as much distance as the other salutation.
Forgive me the English. I’m sure you understand it by now, as you do all languages.
Isn’t it funny that by now my English is better than my Russian has ever been? I guess the Cold War came before me; if anything, it has no substance within me. I love our Russia and somehow I love America. It’s tricky to say it like that because I barely know America, the USA, from first-hand experience.
My best friend is American and I’ve had several other US friends through the years. You would not be surprised. I don’t think you were the kind of person to radically dismiss a whole country, a whole people. I remember how you used to speak to me in your letters, to implore me to go out there and see the world. Experience great art. Travel.
When did we send our last letters to each other?
Was it around 2010, when I moved to Berlin? It was probably before that. 2007 perhaps, when I started my Bachelor’s. When I moved out for a year to move back in with my parents to finish my studies.
I think the last time I saw you must have been 2010 or 2011. What was the last trip you took?
Forgive me as I mourn in my way.
I’m telling you this but maybe I want Mom to forgive me. I don’t think she ever understood that your death hurt me, too. In a different way, a more numb way. I did not cry and I felt weird because of this. At the same time, it felt like I made peace with it.
The ‘out of sight, out of mind’ phrase is savagely true. It’s a fact of life I don’t have to explain to you. But I do care. Through the years, we’ve maintained our connection, beyond letters and phone calls and face-to-face conversations.
I’d love to ask how you are. I’m fine.
I finished my Bachelor’s, moved to Berlin, finished my Master’s, started working. I used to fret about my future a lot, I still do. Not that I would say that I regret anything. I just wonder what it would have been like if I had done some things differently. If I stopped working at burger restaurants and got a real, full-time job at the age of 25, for instance. To say it like that sounds ridiculous.
What would my life have been like if I married in my 20s? Yeah, Grandma, I am still single. I had several chances that I’d let pass me by. This part I do regret.
Isn’t it strange how challenging this letter is?
It reminds me of the Russian poet Marina Cvetaeva. You know her. In the 1920s she befriended Rilke, the great German poet. They wrote to each other. When he died, she penned one last letter, a poem where she asks him if he landed well and what the new world was like. Did he still write and if so what? Was he beyond writing?
To be beyond writing, what a funny idea. Like meditating and speaking with your mouth closed. Speaking a universal language, like you do.
I want to re-read our letters, copy your recipes. Most of them were written when I was still a kid. Barely a teenager. Some of the addresses on the envelopes have faded.
It’s been years since I wrote an actual letter. In fact, I am writing to you on a computer. Grandpa still learned how to operate them and we used to exchange emails. I don’t think you’ve ever sat at a computer, did you? Maybe I am wrong.
So much of our knowledge and experience erodes into maybes. Just imagine if no one ever invented language and writing.
You’ve guessed it, I work as a writer. Though I’m always quick to add — just a Copywriter. Someone who uses words to sell things. Which I guess is better than having your words go unheard, into the void. Mom still expects me to write that novel while I feel like I gave up on that a while ago.
Oh.
I visited Sicily two years ago. Your namesake, Grandma Sizilia.
Whenever I see Mom and Dad, I come across the postcard you’ve sent us from that island. You made it all the way around it! I mean, you had to, right?
I’ve only seen the West of Sicily. It’s gorgeous. Did you also stroll the streets of Noto and climb the steps to one of its churches? Even for me, the steps were a steep climb, in the summer sun. I hope you’ve relaxed at one of the beaches I’ve been to.
I miss you, Grandma.
Lately, I started writing online. It’s called a blog. There is this website named Medium and everybody can just open a page and start writing. Other people who are on the Internet can read it. Crazy, right?
My generation knows by now that most of the things we say stay recorded somewhere. I try to embrace it.
So I am writing on this blog every day. I’m unemployed Grandma, but that will change soon. There is not much time left and I have to start making the most of it.
A friend of mine suggested we start going to theaters and operas in Berlin. I’ve lived in the city for 13 years and there’s still so much to see. Remember when I had my theater pass as a kid?
I am rambling.
All I wanted to say is “Hi”. I remember you. A lot.
You’re never really gone, are you?
Love,
Anton
Part of my Medium challenge — 30 Posts in 30 Days
Day 8/30
Thanks to all my followers. If the piece resonated with you, leave me a comment.
And see you tomorrow.
