3.168e+8 Footsteps

1.
Dear mother,
I arrived at the airport last night. Budapest is sinfully hot but I’ve found the most marvelous coffee shop close to Gabriel’s statue. He stabs the clouds and rains proclamations on pedestrians. I’m grateful for the precipitation, imaginary or not. Say hello to Kitty for me. I miss you both.
With affection,
tabitha

2.
Dear mother,
Still melting. The city’s on fire. Need ice.
Blazing,
tabitha
p.s. Did you try to call me? The ringtone sounded urgent.

3.
Dear mother,
I’m sorry for the lack of response. My cell phone disappeared. Its absence is a hole in my otherwise bursting day. The hotel desk clerk filed a missing property report. Her embroidery is renowned for the superstitions she weaves into her textiles. She will contact Alexander Graham Bell via backstitch. He will sort this mess out. I’ll call you soon. I sense you waiting.
Frustrated,
tabitha

Attachment:
REPORT
Budapest Boutique
Priority: clamorous
Missing: phone
Last seen: yes
Suspect: white lizard

4.
Dear mother,
My phone was discovered at Buda Castle, trapped in the stucco. I got your voicemail but the words didn’t make sense. You must speak up. Who is Dr. mumble-mumble and why does he want to garble? I’ll be home next Tuesday with a souvenir replica of St. Margaret’s iron girdle. Her island is lovely but as it’s surrounded by water my inability to swim makes it an insurmountable destination.
Regretfully,
tabitha

5.
Dear mother,
The zoo trapped a lion in the seal pond. I anticipated carnage but the zookeepers lured the beast with a slab of Stinking Bishop cheese. Hungarian wildlife prefer dairy to pups, it seems. Your latest text sounded cryptic. What is a germ cell and why is it sick? Please elaborate. The Wi-Fi in the hotel is too tenuous to access the internet.
Confused,
tabitha

6.
Dear mother,
The concierge gave me your message but he mispronounced your name. I told him it was Candice, Latin for fire-white, but he shook his head. His ears protrude terribly, which could be why he misheard. Neither he nor I are familiar with teratomas or why you would be growing one. Perhaps you meant tomato? Went to City Park at night. At the top of the sky, the moon spilled from its shell and plummeted through the stars. I thought I saw myself dancing, as if from afar, but it could have been a refraction of lunar flares on the lake.
Warmly,
tabitha

7.
Dear mother,
A group of beggars gathered at the entrance to the metro.  One had a lute but most of the strings had snapped. He strummed it anyway. Another man played bongos. It was beautiful. I know you are trying to tell me something but I’m not sure I want to understand.
Anxious,
tabitha

8.
Dear mother,
I climbed thirteen steps today. Does that make me unlucky? Your telegram arrived, only to be eaten by a mutt. I saved a few words. If, perhaps, and possibly. They’re cheerful words. It’s hard to tell, this far from home. Perhaps you could send another telegram?
Uncertain,
tabitha

9.
Dear mother,
A boat captain called me Euro-baptized. I don’t know if he meant it as a compliment. I think it’s time for you to lay things out. I can take it. Let me channel the Danube. I’ll wash the shores of Buda and Pest. I’ll flow through the city. I await your answer.
Attentively,
tabitha

10.
Dear mother,
Your latest message chills me. I was wrong; I can’t take it. There is no wash or flow. Please tell me the word dying is an abstract expression. Explain to me you are dying for a strawberry lemonade. Promise me you are dying for a trip to the ocean. My thoughts have congealed.
Send solvent,
tabitha
p.s. What do you mean, stay in Budapest?

11.
Dear mother,
The clouds over Chain Bridge are exploding. Despite what you say, there are too many footsteps between us. I am coming home. I am coming now. My tickets are booked. The airport smells of ashes and sweat. The taxi driver blinks too fast. Is it Morse? Does he know you? I am coming home. I am coming now.
Soon,
tabitha

12.
 

13.
Dear mother,
The hospital won’t let me visit until morning. They believe in the early bird and the worm. It’s cold here. Not like Budapest. Kitty has frost on his ears. Let me turn up the heat. I’ll mix strawberry lemonade. Beggars will play the lute and dance. I’ll be the bird, the worm. I’ll be early.
Apprehensive,
tabitha

14.
Dear mother,
I smuggled Kitty into the hospital. His ears have defrosted but his feet remain cold. You remind me of a painting, lying so still in your bed. Mona Lisa, except for the smile. I’ll wait for you to open your eyes. I’ll wait for you to smile. I’ll sketch your recovery in red and orange.
Lovingly,
tabitha

15.
Dear mother,
The doctor arrived. He grows petri dishes full of compassion but his lab coat is the color of sadness. He says not to hope, but hope is food for the starving.
Aching,
tabitha

16.
Dear mother,
Things have slid from dreadful to impossible. I am breaking. The world is breaking. Can you hear it? Can you feel it? Can you
feel?
tabitha

16.
Dear mother,
Don’t go.
I am frightened,
tabitha

16.

16.
dear mother,
Don’t. go
tabitha

16.

14.

12.

17.
Dear _mother,
Everything has fragme^nted.
t_abiTha

16.

17. 17. _{17. D}ear _mother

17. 17. ^{I am}

^lost.            

17. 17. _17.

17. 17.

_You are ^lost.

18.

19.

Dear mother,
I wrapped
 

20.

Dear mother,
I wrapped your casket

21.
Dear mother,
I wrapped your casket in Hungarian textiles. Your house echoes. Your plants are withered. Your oven is dark. There’s no milk in your refrigerator. I hung St. Margaret’s girdle above the piano.
Wind can wither even the sturdiest rock.
Adrift,
tabitha

22.
Dear mother,
you meet me, 23. sometimes, 24. in my dreams.
Gratified,
tabitha

25.
Dear mother,
It’s been a month since I last touched you. The Earth wobbles. Its edges are sharp and I am reluctant to venture close, but I spin with its orbit so I don’t fall off.
Cautious,
tabitha

26. 27. Dear mother,
29. time 31. marches

32. and marches

33.

34. and marches

and

35.
Dear mother,
A year is eternity when measured in teaspoons. It’s springtime in Budapest. I’m not there, but I’m sure it’s true. At home, thunderstorms squall. Kitty chases the sound but the sky refuses to yield. I followed a blush of cherry blossoms to the shores of the Pacific. The clouds formed your face. Whitecaps whispered your voice. You are Buda. You are Pest. You are the Strait of Juan de Fuca. You are the sea. You are
forever,
tabitha

_________

Mureall Hebert is a writer and editor near Seattle, Washington. Her work has appeared in YARN, decomP, and Bartleby Snopes, among others. She holds an MFA from the Northwest Institute of Literary Arts. You can find her on Twitter @mureallhebert