I am not exactly sure who to address this letter to . . . I am a grad student at Rhode Island College and my professor has required us to read Swimming to Cambodia and Morning, Noon and Night. Our final projects are to write a 30 minute autobiographical performance piece. I have read and reread the pages in the hopes of gaining a clearer perspective on such an extraordinary man, yet I must confess, I am sometimes left confused by his words.
 

I think I am drawn to his writings, in part, because I married a man from Barrington, Rhode Island and it makes my heart flutter a little when Spalding references something from our home town, like when he lead his younger brother Channing out into the middle of Rumstick Road. As a mother I understood the jealousy factor, I see it everyday in my own children, but I also felt the fear in my throat because of the severity of the action; the consequence that could have followed had his mother not rescued Channing.
 

The other reason I believe I am so drawn to these pieces is because of how broken I felt reading his words. The gentle ache I felt when he would write about feeling paranoid or anxious. It amazed me that a person would get so "naked" with their feelings and be truly honest about how they felt in any given situation. It inspired me to not be afraid of what I write, because truth is universal, at one time or another, someone somewhere has felt the exact same way.  It is what connects the human beings to one another, even though more often then not we will deny that we have ever had those thoughts or insecurities that Spalding speaks off.
 

I guess maybe I am writing this letter to say how sorry I am that he left this world so soon.  I hope that those he loved are somehow at peace.  I know that as a mother of four who struggles with my husband's reoccurring bouts of cancer, it has been difficult to find a sustaining peace.
 

Please if you can, tell them this for me . . . he still inspires . . . he inspired me. I think maybe its okay that I tell the truth of what life has been like for the past eight years . . . maybe I have an opportunity to touch the souls of others as he has touched mine.
 

© 2007 Elizabeth Cunha