It is finished, it has a zipper and it looks almost normal. I am going to wear it in public. I don't care if I look odd. I want to make all of my own clothes. I just do.

"The endearing charm of the gentle, romantic life captured so vividly in Victoria magazine returns, following the announcement that Hoffman Media will relaunch the much beloved magazine in November, 2007." Victoriamag.com

Right now, I feel that ecstatic commingling that fandom brings. Can it be true my beloved magazine is coming back? Will it be as good as before?

Have you ever remembered something from your childhood and wished with all your might that you could see it now, in the present world, and see how it adapted to present technology? How much richer and more interactive it might be. Yet you know that it is as impossible as your being able to travel backward in time to a more gracious age. Yet for me, this wish is coming true.

My picture was included in this city guide. The administrators solicited my photo from Flickr, requested how best to credit my work, and here it is.

My days with Oskar passed quickly. At first we remained reserved. I felt sometimes that Gauvain’s spirit was with us still. I looked in the mirror and sometimes fancied I saw him there, looking back at me with condemning eyes. I knew all was not well. My happiness was not without bitterness.

But still I gave myself completely over to my passionate love. I dined with him. We walked to familiar places, hand in hand. We recalled the merriment we had shared as children, here and there. Our innocence was not lost, but somehow found in one another’s eyes as for days we had a thousand things to do that we should have been doing for the past several years we had been denied one another.

He became not just my lover, but the other half of my soul.

I did not look to the end of summer any more than to the end of my life. I felt that they were the same. Life without this man would be my life no longer. To love—and be loved. I knew as I held him close that I had a precious gift many who lived to be a hundred might never possess—and I felt this must be some eminent Power’s balance in the universe, to gift me with love when I had so little life. I would gladly—a thousand times, yes—have taken this summer of love, even if the life before and after it must be so poor and mirthless.

We had to hide. We thought we were fooling everyone. At first we were so careful, but our very natures insisted that we take more and more risks to be present in the relationship we so desired. There were the servants with which to contend. It might be that the older servants might get a bit above themselves and be obliged to report my doings to the master on his return. I looked after this, but only for a time. I forgot about Gauvain and all the reasons I should keep away from Oskar. I forgot how I would hurt at the end of this thing.

One night, my maid—Gervaise—saw us together, and the next morning she wept over my things as she was folding them and putting them in my drawers. I watched her apathetically from my bed, a teacup perched nimbly on my fingers, a satisfied smile on my lips. This girl could do nothing to me.

“Fraulein… the Markgraf.”

I merely looked at her with the resentment I had harbored for years. I could be cruel to those that were weaker than myself. I was so weak in body, but so strong in spirit. I could not tolerate sniveling women. I wanted to crush her—even if I could scarcely move across the rooms at times without her assistance.

With a jerk of the wrist, I retrieved my slate and wrote, I am going to die.

Gervaise began to cry all the harder. Then, I threw the slate at her head, and she tottered clumsily from the room, slamming the door behind her.

It was that day I received my first correspondence from Gauvain. “My dear girl, I have been doing a lot of thinking about our family now that I am away from home. We have never spoken openly of the unfortunate circumstances that brought Oskar to the burg and drove him away from it, but all involved in the scandal are deceased, and there is no reason to carry this injustice to a second generation. I would not presume to tell you that which you already know—only to plead your tolerance of a unique family. Oskar is our half-brother. His mother was our father’s lover. Our mother ordered him away long ago. Should he continue now to work as a servant in our vineyard, or should he live with us as the family he deserves to be? There is only you and me now—and I know you are very fond of him. However, the decision rests with you. There is your future, and your potential embarrassment, to consider.”

His letter fluttered from my nerveless fingers as I moved slowly to the window. I wanted to burn my brother’s loving missive whose words were like poison. I didn’t want to see—didn’t want to think—

I deserve this, I thought fiercely. I deserve Oskar. He is mine.

Then Oskar came to me, and I requested that we go together to the summerhouse as we had in our early days. My strength failed me, as it had more and more as of late, and he was required to carry me. I rested my head against his and closed my eyes as the dappled sunlight and shadows fell across my face. I inhaled the scent of wild honeysuckle that grew around the abandoned summerhouse.

I thought no more of Gauvain’s letter. I devoted myself once more to my love. My frail form reminded me that we loved on borrowed time in more ways than one.

Labels: excerpt, The Soul of the Rose

Interesting article to read.

I wanted to find this essay of Lawrence's in-depth notes about The Scarlet Letter of which I read some in The Faith of a Writer this weekend. Taking notes on other books like that is something I never gave myself permission to do. I guess I am learning some things from this book.

I really like his subtle comparison of Hester to Ligeia, which is not something I ever thought about before. Dr. Loving mentioned Ligeia (Hester, too) at great length in early American literature, but I don't think he ever compared them. He put it down in plain English.

What do you think about Ligeia and Rowena? Listen to the names.

LI-JAE-A.

RO-WEEN-A.

Who would you rather be married to? LI-JAE-A? Or RO-WEEN-A.