Art vs. Meaning

Mom has a long history of letter writing and still tries to compose notes to friends and family. For a while there, around the time she first fell down, she literally did not have the strength to put pen to paper. (She always blamed the pen and accumulated a handful of them, none of which, of course, "worked.")

Unfortunately, although she is now stronger, her cognitive skills are weaker. Now her writings are disjointed, repetitious and frequently illegible. Even she, re-reading her notes, realizes this. She does not let that stop her.

A couple of days ago, she spent the better part of an evening composing some sort of missive. I say "some sort of" because I have not been able to see it and probably never will. She wrote it partially on paper (I think) but mostly on the backs and fronts of several envelopes which she then sealed up and glued together using Elmer's. It's three or four envelopes thick, solidly built, red and white and yellow, with flaps sticking out here and there. As collage, it's beautiful. As communication, not so much. She addressed the outermost envelope with the name of an old friend and the friend's cell phone number. And there is no way to get inside it to see what she wrote without destroying it, which I shall not do.

Those writing scraps which I have seen and deciphered are generally bittersweet, filled with thanks for friends and family, love (especially for her grandchildren), and promises to write better letters when she gets well again.