It has been one year since you left our mundane world for another, mysterious one where particles assemble and disassemble, convene and confer, creating new life as they travel through time and space. I don’t know what form you have taken–vegetal, animal, mineral–but I’m sure it befits you and your love of nature. What I do know is that, despite your elusiveness, you are still present in my daily life and therefore, I surmise, up-to-date on the latest developments at this end.
But just in case you missed something in the course of your metaphysical meanderings, here is a brief recap:
In four weeks I will have brain surgery (Deep Brain Stimulation), the very surgery I could not contemplate a few months ago. But it is time. I am ready. I have complete faith in my neurosurgeon’s skills (a surgeon who admits to being ‘anal’ when it comes to finding the precise location in which to implant the electrodes is exactly the kind of surgeon I want poking around my brain).
The questions I ask myself these days have to do with my creative self. For example, will I be able to paint in the same style after I am wired? As my motor skills improve (and that’s a good thing), will my creativity wane? In short, when all the hardware is installed, will I still be an artist?
I certainly hope so. If not, I have alternative plans. I can become a ski instructor. Or an alphorn player. Or I could learn how to make macarons and then sell them at the Short Hills Mall for a fortune–but not a cookie.
I am painting like a madwoman, as if my creative juices were in danger of vanishing.
Farewell, dear maman. Until next time.
Your daughter, or, as you always called me, your filly.