1710 15th Avenue South
                                                                                                    Seattle, WA  98144
                                                                                                    May 10, 2008




Isabel Pearl Couvillion or Gordon Isaac Dillhunt
1710 15th Avenue South
Seattle, WA  98144

Dear Isabel Pearl or Gordon Isaac,

Let me begin by saying I am frightened and uncertain. Frightened in the way I was when we
moved out of our one-bedroom apartment and bought this house for $209,900 two days after
9/11. A fear that finally passed the day I repaired the lock on the front storm door by replacing
the metal circlip — which holds the internal locking mechanism together while allowing it to
rotate — with an E-clip I located in a disorganized plastic drawer at Lowe’s Hardware on Rainier.
The only tools necessary were two screwdrivers (one Phillips and one slotted). 

I feel obligated to include here a narrative that explains how I am already so in love with you and
how I’m anxiously awaiting your arrival. The truth is I’d be happy with a few more weeks of
things the way they are. When you talk to me later, my perspective on this point will have
changed — not because I’m a liar, but because the truth has been transformed. I’ll tell you how
those were the happiest times of our lives (which they were/n’t) and how desperately we miss
them (which we do/n’t). You may even have begun to develop the erroneous impression that we
knew where we were going and what we were doing (which we did/n’t). This is what I want to
tell you. Love is full of regret; hope is plagued with doubt; fate exists in retrospect as a
mechanism for resolving new data points.

It has been a strange spring filled with hail and cold snaps. I continue to turn on the fan each
night as a sleeping aid. On nights when you ask for additional blankets, I simply put it in the
corner and face it towards the wall. I suspect you’ll like the white noise machine we’re planning
to buy for you.  

This morning your mother confided that the room spins each time she turns over in bed to ease
the pressure on her hips. I suggested that it might be the result of blood being redirected in large
quantities. What frightens her most is the unpredictability of her dizziness — it never happens
when she stands up.

If this is to be a time capsule, it seems important to include more than just words, so I’m also
sending an unopened copy of Billy Strayhorn’s posthumous Lush Life along with the new
Andrew Bird album — both of which I have been listening to incessantly over the last nine
months. As CDs are already antiquated technology (I don’t own either album in physical form
myself), you may not have the means to listen to them. If this turns out to be the case, open them
anyway, look at the artwork or read the lyrics quietly to yourself. Feel free to use the plastic
jewel case as a coaster for your drink (hot or cold).

                                                                                                    Always,


                                                                                                    Papa

dd
2 Enclosures  (J.H. Miller et al.)

Under separate cover:
1.   Armchair Apocrypha
2.   Lush Life

Drew Dillhunt | Mudlark No. 39 (2010)
Contents | Apparatus for Molding Hollow Plastic Products