I wanted to write about this letter.

I wanted to write a summation of my stay out here.

I wanted to write about all the things I learned and tie them all together – to the letter. To something smart. To something witty. To something trans formative.

For something for us all to learn from.

For something I could learn from!

What did I glean from my experience here? Do I even know yet? Will I know when I get home? Do I even have any words about Tet?

No.

It reminds me of birthing babies, being pregnant, having the power to “give life,” and that is not something I can do.

Even if I could, I never wanted to. Not really. I wanted to adopt. I never did that either. I’m too selfish. Too self-centered. My art is everything.

Maybe I don’t make little people that will build rockets one day, or become the president, or cure cancer, or become junkies, or disappoint their parents in some other way. I just make things. 

Mostly, it’s been a storage problem, and sometimes it’s “worthy.”

Sometimes, I’m worthy.