The day is early and the thoughts are long and yearning. Sometimes I wake with this yearning to call my sister. Maybe it is the dreams of the night that provoke this feeling, I have never pinned it down.
When we were young, between 18-20, we would go to coffee houses and sit and talk about the boys we were dating, a dress I was making, her play at college that she was in, a fight with our parents. Just regular talk that girls have with each other.
Along came our late thirties and early forties. We both had the burdens of life weighing us down. And in the mail I received this card and the enclosed poem. My sister was always writing, writing poems, love letters to her family, journaling. She always used the written word to express her inner self. I have kept them all.
This painting by Edward Hopper expresses the connection that we had. Each girl leaning into the other with the urgency of communication. This is what we experienced. We listened to each other when no one was talking.
Because of the unexplained emptiness that one feels in Edward Hopper's paintings, he is my favorite painter. I have driven down early morning streets and felt like an escapee from "Nighthawks". The aloneness that he addresses is speaking to me. I did have the fortune of seeing "Nighthawks" at the Pasadena Art Museum many years ago. It is not a large painting (approx 17" x 30") but it certainly looms large in the consciousness.
My card has faded in the passing years but the feelings of those days are still beautiful and clear.
3 comments:
What a lovely post you wrote on your sister and Hopper's painting. I like his work also for the same reasons. I never had a sister, but always wanted to have one.
You shared a large part of your heart. Dreams often reveal so much that we sometimes don't mention as we journey through life. I always enjoy reading whatever you post. It is rich and true.
A real loss...a hole in your every moment life...thank you for your thoughtful sharing. I know, I lost my sister. The Hopper work speaks to the aloneness. Carry on that is what we do...carry on.
I love Hopper too. So evocative, such solitude and introspection.
And of course, Mom's writing. She was a true poet. I love her writing. I have a chest full of her journals and they are filled with poems and musings. Someday I want to put them in a small book to share with others.
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