To my brother in The Netherlands...Fate might have known that we shall meet here today. How do I explain the course my life has taken and the roads that has led me back to our Motherland and now to you. How can I explain all the coincidences that seem to occur right when I need them the most. Perhaps, they are signs that are meant to be followed even if I do not comprehend them when they appear. I may be foolish to dream that fate or signs are guiding me through our meetings and perhaps something more but it is what has driven me since my childhood and has saved me from the other.
When we talked the other day, I showed you the painting I had done of 'starry night' by Van Gogh. I had painted that piece around 2001. I don't know why I suddenly wanted to show you my artwork and thought afterwards that it was a bit much for our initial conversations. Today, after I had posted a poem that I had wrote in 1991, I saw a box of postcards that my husband had pulled out from the garage the other night. I sat on my couch and began to rummage through to revisit the old postcards.
You see, they never belonged to me, they were from the mother of a past relationship back in 1991. Prior to passing away from cancer, she asked me to have these cards. Some of these postcards are vintage postcards that she had collected while others were of her own past. I felt at the time very strange to accept them considering that they were of her own memories. Her son could not look at them and I felt I should accept this offer. I had gone through them over the years, randomly selecting some of the cards to read and then would place them back into the box and store them away.
Tonight, I sat down to do the same. My mind today has been racing and out of sort. I am filled with all emotions and feeling somewhat disconnected. So, I opened the box and read a few postcards. I grabbed another handful and flipped through feeling a little removed. That is when I came across Van Gogh. I love his his work and of course stared at the card for a moment before flipping it over to read the back. This is what I read: Vincent Van Gogh 1853-1890. de oogst. the harvest. la moisson. Van Gogh Museum 1973. Printed in the Netherlands.
I don't know what this signifies but my feelings of insecurities disappeared and I found myself feeling that we are about to open a new chapter in our life. I see before me, a painting of a field rich and plentiful, ready for the harvest. Perhaps, our journey has come to the same conclusion. And from this point on, we will move forth together to build new memories.
6 years ago