September 10th, 2006



I have gotten a few email messages from someone in southern california, in her early thirties, who apparently thinks I am part of her friends and family group. I do not recognize the name. Recently she announced a big party to celebrate her getting better after some sort of illness - which apparently we should all know about. After a couple of excited messages about the party she sent one yesterday that called it off. Said that her "real" self stepped in, that she isn't really well enough to host a party.

I don't quite know why I haven't written back to ask her who she is. I think that if I do she will say "oops, mistake", and drop me from her list. And, closet peeper that I am, I want to hear more, to try to put together the threads and figure out her life.

A few years ago I bought a used book and found, within its pages, a letter. One of those that tells so much and so little, and makes one wonder who sent it and why and to know more or just to imagine more. I sometimes think of taking that letter and constructing a story around it. Similarly with Lily,  the writer of the email messages, whose oblique comments about her health reach out to me. Yet maybe I actually do know her?