Week 11: Blue Hour
Dear ---,
It's crazy. I've been married to your son for over five years, and I still don't know what to call you. "Mrs. Schlot" sounds too formal. "JoAnn" sounds too informal. Though, I did refer to you as "JoAnn" a couple times at your funeral.
Forgive me, I'm babbling.
In all honesty, I'm not sure what compelled me to write this letter. Something about the "blue hour." Do you know what that is? I never heard of it until earlier this week. But it occurs at dusk--or dawn. The sky is an amazing color of blue. I've seen it so many times, but never knew it had a name.
Anyway, something about the blue hour left my feeling calm, peaceful. It made me think of you. I thought it was telling me to write about you. But no. It is very clearly telling me to write to you. And so, I obey the blue hour.
A lot of women don't get along with their mother-in-law. Maybe it's a jealous thing. The wife is jealous of the first woman their husband ever loved, and the mother-in-law is jealous that she is no longer the love of her son's life. I don't know. What, I do know, however, is that I was incredibly lucky to have you as a mother-in-law. You welcomed me into your family with open arms, even before we met.
I always wondered how you felt about me. I knew you liked me. You loved everyone (and everyone loved you in return). But did you think I was good enough for your son, for your baby boy?
I found out the answer to that a couple days after your funeral. Your friend, Wendy, sent me a text telling me how happy you were when John found me. That you thought I was a good person, and that I love him very much. That text was one of the sweetest messages I ever received. And it started a fresh batch of tears when I read it, as it's doing now.
Thank you for the kind words you said about me, when you had no idea that I would hear--read--them. I will continue to love and support John. I will take care of him, and do everything I can to make him happy. We will never forget you.
I just looked outside. It looks like it's that time. The blue hour. The time of peace and calm. And, for me, the time of love and remembrance.
Love,
Kim
It's crazy. I've been married to your son for over five years, and I still don't know what to call you. "Mrs. Schlot" sounds too formal. "JoAnn" sounds too informal. Though, I did refer to you as "JoAnn" a couple times at your funeral.
Forgive me, I'm babbling.
In all honesty, I'm not sure what compelled me to write this letter. Something about the "blue hour." Do you know what that is? I never heard of it until earlier this week. But it occurs at dusk--or dawn. The sky is an amazing color of blue. I've seen it so many times, but never knew it had a name.
Anyway, something about the blue hour left my feeling calm, peaceful. It made me think of you. I thought it was telling me to write about you. But no. It is very clearly telling me to write to you. And so, I obey the blue hour.
A lot of women don't get along with their mother-in-law. Maybe it's a jealous thing. The wife is jealous of the first woman their husband ever loved, and the mother-in-law is jealous that she is no longer the love of her son's life. I don't know. What, I do know, however, is that I was incredibly lucky to have you as a mother-in-law. You welcomed me into your family with open arms, even before we met.
I always wondered how you felt about me. I knew you liked me. You loved everyone (and everyone loved you in return). But did you think I was good enough for your son, for your baby boy?
I found out the answer to that a couple days after your funeral. Your friend, Wendy, sent me a text telling me how happy you were when John found me. That you thought I was a good person, and that I love him very much. That text was one of the sweetest messages I ever received. And it started a fresh batch of tears when I read it, as it's doing now.
Thank you for the kind words you said about me, when you had no idea that I would hear--read--them. I will continue to love and support John. I will take care of him, and do everything I can to make him happy. We will never forget you.
I just looked outside. It looks like it's that time. The blue hour. The time of peace and calm. And, for me, the time of love and remembrance.
Love,
Kim