This post will and must be short (you can thank my research paper for that). But I need to write, like I have a soul itch.
It's that time of year when the topography of my desk has been transformed by new mountains of books with titles like Frauen: German Women Recall the Third Reich and Resistance of the Heart; when somewhere behind the drawn curtain of our dorm room I can hear the pitter patter of the rain, constant like the static of a radio station; when I sip scalding green tea from my favorite glass mug; when it hurts to type because of the harp-string-induced blisters on my fingertips from the Christmas Festival concerts; when hearing my Dad's voice on the other end of my phone call makes me miss my family even more.
It's that time of year when I get even more excited than usual to go to Trader Joe's so that I can collect more of their paper grocery bags and carve away at them with scissors to craft Christmas cards; when I have to remind myself that I don't need to buy anything from Anthropologie, no matter how festive and enchanting it may be; when I feel increasingly thankful for true friends; when I miss Turkey a great deal (oh wait, that's all the time).
For whatever reason, it's also that time of year when being serenaded by Michael Bublé's rendition of "All I Want For Christmas Is You" over Pandora, or enjoying a gingerbread latte in a cozy armchair, or watching all the be-scarved couples strolling hand in hand under the twinkling holiday lights of downtown gives me this little ache inside, a longing to share this season with someone special.
I'm definitely not saying I want someone to come along just so I can hold his hand and sit by the fireside reading together (as wonderful as those things may be)...I just recognize that this is sometimes a rather melancholy time to be single. It's probably worse than Valentine-less Valentine's Days. And I know I'm not the only person who feels this way.
But as I was engrossed in a volume of the last messages written to friends, family, and fiancés by men and women who resisted Hitler and were martyred, I came across a letter written by Rose Schlösinger to her young daughter in 1943, shortly before Rose's execution for her involvement in a resistance group against the Nazis. It was beautiful, and something young single women should perhaps remind themselves more often. Rose wrote "dear little big Marianne":
“Do not be too prodigal of your feelings. There are not many men who are like Daddy, as good and as pure in their love. Learn to wait before giving all of your love -- thus you will be spared the feeling of having been cheated. But a man who loves you so much that he will share all suffering and all difficulties with you, and for whom you can do the same -- such a man you may love, and believe me, the happiness you will find with him will repay you for the waiting."
It's that time of year when the topography of my desk has been transformed by new mountains of books with titles like Frauen: German Women Recall the Third Reich and Resistance of the Heart; when somewhere behind the drawn curtain of our dorm room I can hear the pitter patter of the rain, constant like the static of a radio station; when I sip scalding green tea from my favorite glass mug; when it hurts to type because of the harp-string-induced blisters on my fingertips from the Christmas Festival concerts; when hearing my Dad's voice on the other end of my phone call makes me miss my family even more.
It's that time of year when I get even more excited than usual to go to Trader Joe's so that I can collect more of their paper grocery bags and carve away at them with scissors to craft Christmas cards; when I have to remind myself that I don't need to buy anything from Anthropologie, no matter how festive and enchanting it may be; when I feel increasingly thankful for true friends; when I miss Turkey a great deal (oh wait, that's all the time).
For whatever reason, it's also that time of year when being serenaded by Michael Bublé's rendition of "All I Want For Christmas Is You" over Pandora, or enjoying a gingerbread latte in a cozy armchair, or watching all the be-scarved couples strolling hand in hand under the twinkling holiday lights of downtown gives me this little ache inside, a longing to share this season with someone special.
I'm definitely not saying I want someone to come along just so I can hold his hand and sit by the fireside reading together (as wonderful as those things may be)...I just recognize that this is sometimes a rather melancholy time to be single. It's probably worse than Valentine-less Valentine's Days. And I know I'm not the only person who feels this way.
But as I was engrossed in a volume of the last messages written to friends, family, and fiancés by men and women who resisted Hitler and were martyred, I came across a letter written by Rose Schlösinger to her young daughter in 1943, shortly before Rose's execution for her involvement in a resistance group against the Nazis. It was beautiful, and something young single women should perhaps remind themselves more often. Rose wrote "dear little big Marianne":
“Do not be too prodigal of your feelings. There are not many men who are like Daddy, as good and as pure in their love. Learn to wait before giving all of your love -- thus you will be spared the feeling of having been cheated. But a man who loves you so much that he will share all suffering and all difficulties with you, and for whom you can do the same -- such a man you may love, and believe me, the happiness you will find with him will repay you for the waiting."
I so enjoy the beauty that you bring to your writing and share with others. I connected so poignently to this post. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteI am so thankful that it was meaningful to you!! Thanks so much.
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