Something found

I found this recently on a hard drive. I wrote it nearly a decade ago. It’s crazy reading things like this - what was; what has changed; what’s still the same. Also, no surprise I left it open-ended. This was before living in New York and Georgia, so i’m adding to it—life extended. I left the original open-ended, even I knew I wasn’t done floating.

Sometimes I wonder about time.  I should say, worry about time.  Thoughts bounce around in my mind about how to follow God’s will.  Thoughts like:

• How much thinking do you do before it becomes a waste of time?

• What’s realistic regarding what God is capable of using me for?

• Am I currently limiting Him or potentially missing a way for him to bless me?

I’m not sure how much time has passed since I wrote these questions. I turn 30 years old in a few months and some days that alone takes my breath away. I’ve been alive 30 years and have experienced things like dancing in a club on Beale Street; hearing Ol’ Man River as the barges drift down the Mighty Mississippi River; traveling to England, Scotland, Italy, Germany, and Peru; living in Pennsylvania, Michigan, Tennessee, Mississippi and Illinois. I’ve acted in plays and attempted to play sports. I’ve gone on choir tours and competed in vocal competitions. I’ve sung in front of a panel of judges and was chosen as one of the top 40 altos in Memphis to sing in a choir made up of high schoolers from all over Memphis. I went to the same private school for twelve years. I was a chubby red-haired girl who most people seemed to enjoy being around.

Pennsylvania and Michigan held my youngest years and proved that having good neighbors makes a great deal of difference. Dear Tennessee will always be the place I call home. Whether Memphis or Nashville, neither are very glamorous, at least not when I was a resident. And I’m confident most of my laughter resides in the music-filled State. Mississippi taught me that all you need is good people to love a place...and maybe a Walmart. Mississippi is the State that held my college years and I’m convinced no one on this earth loved college more than me. I was a radio DJ, spent hours upon hours in the editing bay as a Broadcasting major, revisited my theater and choir roots, and embarked on many road trips. Illinois was a surprise that expanded my heart. I met people who loved me well and introduced me to work in the real world. I was naïve, excited and cold. And then there is New York [City]. Manhattan and all its boroughs feels like an entire State. New York City, and i’m looking at you Brooklyn, is a place i’ll never stop thinking about. It’s like having a wild animal as a pet. Noises, smells, uniqueness, fear, thrill, pain, joy, art, chaos…it’s all there. It’s the city with a beating heart. I wasn’t prepared for my heart to align with its proud city beats. But it did and i’ll never not ache for that city. Only God knows if i’m done with it. I learned the depths of loneliness and how to be confident in who I am. I learned how to survive. Here and now i’m found in Georgia, the state I never considered. In some ways, Georgia is a little like a soup with all the ingredients of my past homes. There’s a part of me that’s yet to be unlocked here. It has nearly everything I want in a place, including good people and short drives, or flights, to the places and people I love. I’m 40 years old and still have those same questions, just like an old sweet song. That’s okay. I’m the sum of all these parts and I wouldn’t change a darn thing!

Sincerely, A friend

A preamble: I wrote this in 2017, with the hope of filming it as a short film. I believe in the power of a handwritten letter. Riding the subway in New York City, day after day, is the best way to immerse yourself in the spectrum of human experiences. It provides glimpses into wealth, poverty, social dynamics, age, race, protection, danger, sadness, art, mental health, friendship, weirdness, etc. It’s unlike anything else. I wrote this after living in the city for three years of subway rides, often from Brooklyn to the wild frontiers of Manhattan neighborhoods. And I would leave letters of encouragement on the subway, for someone to find. I recently found this in the google drive archives and thought i’d preserve it here. Maybe one day it will get made.

SINCERELY,

by Sarah Virginia Smith

Sincerely, is a silent peek into an average morning of a Brooklyn thirty-something who hasn’t lost hope in the power of a handwritten letter.

Key characters: Anne & Mara
Present day. Brooklyn, NY
Everything shot in black and white.

The story begins with Anne sitting at a table (or coffee table) putting a handwritten letter in an envelope. Everything we see is black and white, except the ink on the letter that we quickly get a glimpse of as Anne seals the envelope (color to be determined later). She writes something quickly on the front of the letter and then gets her belongings, a coffee to go, and heads to the train. She smiles on her walk. We see her headphones in, listening to the music that thus far has been playing in the background. There is a sense of calmness about her as she walks her usual 0.7 miles to the train, letter in hand. She smiles at either the booth attendant or a passerby who opts to not smile back but it doesn’t phase her or change her expression. The train comes and she boards the car toward the rear. There is nothing extraordinary about this day. The train crosses the Manhattan Bridge and we see the NY skyline, the Statue of Liberty in the distance, the East River, and the letter in Anne’s hand as she takes in the route. As the subway doors open at [select easiest departure point], Anne sticks the letter in the frame of an advertisement directly behind her and hurries off to continue her day. We see her exit and pass Mara.

[Enter Mara; music change]

Mara boards the train, a look of exhaustion with circles under her eyes and tears forming. She has several bags with her and tries her best to go unnoticed. She sits in the seat Anne just left, the letter directly behind her head. She takes a deep breath and leans her head back, closing her eyes. She feels the letter shifting behind her head. Mara turns slightly and sees it. She takes the letter, flips it over, and opens it.

[Camera cuts to word, “Sincerely,” handwritten on the front of the envelope. It’s in a vibrant color, and the only thing not in black and white. Color yet to be determined. ]

Mara looks around the train, no one is looking at her. She then opens the letter. We see the ink color fill the page and Mara begins to read. Something about her presence softens. The music begins to change. Her sadness is still evident but manages a tired smile as colors slowly begin to wash over the everything.

(Either changes to full color or a few diminishing spots of black and white scenes/people).

All of a sudden, the train pulls into her stop. She exits the train, letter in hand*, making her way up the littered steps to the street and out into New York (place to be determined).

*Note: Not sure if we need to see any line on the letter.  Maybe the back has one line that says, “Things will get better” or “You are loved.”  Haven’t decided on this - would love your feedback.

Reba Makes a Friend

Reba Swan grew up on a pond near a farm. Reba’s mom, a teacher, was considered the best in the region and received several teaching awards. Her dad was a highly sought-after flight instructor. Reba considered herself lucky to have talented, hard-working parents. She loved them very much.

Reba was an excellent student. Once she learned how to be a swan, her parents went back to work. Reba took care of herself during the day. She was brave and curious about most things. She’d spend her free time flying to nearby places, searching for something or someone new to discover. When she wasn’t flying, Reba would be in one of two places: either daydreaming beneath two giant weeping willow trees at one end of the pond or up by the farm. It was in the opposite direction, just beyond a little green hill. Nearly every day, right after lunch, Reba would climb the little hill and look out over the farm. There was a red barn and two fenced-off areas. One fenced area had more land in the middle of it than the other. On the other side of the barn was a blue house with a light pink door. It looked like a wonderful place to live, though Reba never saw any humans, or animals, living there. Whenever she’d rest under those weeping willows, she’d daydream about having a best friend. Sure, she’d met plenty of other swans, birds, ducks, squirrels, and mice, but everyone seemed to already have a best friend. Not willing to let this get her down, Reba continued to wish for a miracle.

Then, on a beautifully ordinary day, everything changed. She’d finished a lunch of pondweeds and was ready for a flyover. With the wind tickling her feathers, she looped around the pond and headed toward the farmland. Something in the distance caught her eye. For a moment, she forgot to flap her wings and begin to sink. She yelped and began flying again. But, there on the empty farmland, were animals, and humans! Reba couldn’t believe it and whistled in delight. She turned around and decided to land back at the pond. Her excitement grew so strong she started to dance as she waddled. Wanting to get a closer look, she danced up the little hill toward the farm. There was a big green truck with a large trailer and one car parked in the driveway. As she got closer, there was a brand new sign on the fence that read THE GILBERT FARM.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and wished, please let my best friend be at The Gilbert Farm. Then, Reba bravely waddled into the fenced area, closer to the barn. Horses and cows were grazing in the larger pasture area. Moving closer to the house, she counted one-two-three-four humans carrying boxes from the car. No one had asked her to leave yet. In fact, no one had seemed to notice the swan. She decided to move closer to the barn. There were chickens clucking in the smaller fenced in area along with a large pig who was pink with black spots. The pig was looking right at her, “Hello!”

Reba looked to her left and right. “Yes, I’m talking to you!,” the pig replied. “Oh! Hello Pig, I’m Reba and it’s very nice to meet you. What’s your name?”
”I’m Shania. It’s nice to meet you Reba. Are you a neighbor?”
”Yes, yes I am — I live just down the hill on a pond with my parents.”
”Well, that sounds very nice. As i’m sure you noticed, we have just getting situated here. It’s a good group; certainly lots of personalities but we do try and look out for one another.” Reba’s joy was overflowing. She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt this much excitement, or hope, before. “I’d love to meet everyone, eventually,” she said.

“That would be wonderful,” said Shania, “but maybe in a day or two. We are all adjusting a bit to the new place and needing some rest. But maybe tomorrow, you could pop back over and I could introduce you. Knowing a friend is nearby is very comforting.”

Friend. The word held so much meaning for Reba. “I’m looking forward to it, Shania; and to being your friend. You’ve made my day!,” Reba exclaimed. “I feel the same, Reba.” They said goodbye and Reba made her way back to the pond. A day which began like any other, and now, she had a new friend named Shania! What a world of possibility.

Over dinner, she listened to her parents share about their days and when it was her turn, she couldn’t help but beam with delight. She talked about the farm and about Shania. Her joy was contagious and her parents laughed and asked a lot of questions. As the day came to an end, Reba closed her eyes and fell asleep smiling.