There was something I was going to tell you yesterday, but I only had about three minutes, and that's not enough time... So, I'll tell you now... I'll warn you though: it's a little strange... I never told anybody else, and I didn't tell you before because... well, it's silly and it's weird and I didn't quite know what you'd say...
Just before I moved here, I went down to where the Rivers met, because I had this weird compulsion to sneak off and write something... That was weird because it was damned cold out and I had a nice warm "office" I could have used, where nobody would have bothered me. But I HAD to go there, and I HAD to bring a notebook... So, I get down there, and I have no idea what to write, and all of a sudden, I go into this kind of daydream... It WAS just a daydream, but it seemed kind of like it was a daydream that was forced onto me... I couldn't help thinking it, and it felt like it was coming from a brain other than mine... That's only happened to me a couple of times, ever; I always figured it was a Muse speaking to me. Anyway, in the daydream, I saw myself in front of the Binghamton post office. There was (and probably still is), a five-pointed star painted on the sidewalk; it appeared that whoever painted it was trying to demonstrate some sort of geometry proof or something, because it's painted perfectly, but it's not symmetrical. Still, it looks like a five-pointed star. And in the daydream, there's this little girl, maybe four years old, standing smack in the middle of it. She's wearing a little white dress and she's got very dark hair. She looks up at me and says, "Mama, I'm the Goddess." (At this point, I was raising my eyebrows, too...) And I couldn't think of a decent response to THAT, but she was looking at me SO seriously... So, I said something stupid like, "you sure are," and took her hand and we walked away... But a block away, she starts picking these blue flowers. I don't know what they're called; they're just some weed, and they've got these tough stems that are really hard to pick; they're light blue or blue-grey, depending on how old they are, and they're probably the most beautiful weed I can think of. So, I stand there for a couple of minutes watching her pick them, and sort of grinning. When she's got enough flowers, she takes my hand again, and says, "these are my favorite flowers in the whole world because they match Daddy's eyes." And then... I don't know. I don't think there was any more. I wrote it all down, but I never told anybody, and I think I burned the paper a long time ago. It seemed so absurd. Beautiful, but absurd. For one thing, my doctor in Binghamton told me it would be very, very difficult for me to get pregnant, if not impossible. For another thing, I've only ever known one person with eyes the color of those flowers. And this was December or so, just after I'd lost touch with you again... Besides... I'd been in love with you forever, but I never, in a million years, thought that we'd ever be together... Not that I hadn't considered it, but it just seemed so impossible that I gave that one up pretty much right away. We were 3,000 miles apart, and I was with somebody, and you were with somebody, and I was far too in love with you for you to actually be in love with ME. The whole thing just seemed silly. But the next (and last) time I went to that spot, there were these little blue flowered weeds growing there... In the middle of the damned winter. It was really, really weird.
Anyway... This is what I meant when I said that my baby had picked you.