A presence in my life sent me a book some time back. Unfortunately, it got lost in transit - or is still on its way here, on some extravagant detour through the postal services of the world.
But, like Lacan said - a letter always reaches its destination.
By which he meant that the past will always catch up to you, like a letter sent from the past. It doesn't really matter what you have done in this past of yours. Any past will be your past, and when you think back upon it - wham! The mailman rings.
Twice, rumor has it.
While the book tried to make its way from there to here, we hyped, bantered and generally built up a lot of expectations about it. I didn't know at the time what book it was, so every day when the mail arrived was a time of excitement. For both of us. Is today the day when the Book will arrive?
In parallel to this, something else happened. A letter started to arrive, and to rewrite the past as it did so. And the closer it came, the more I realized that this was very much a call for action. Either I let it catch up with me and knock me out flat, or I do something about it.
I'm not sure how that will turn out, as I'm constantly swinging between being knocked out and doing things. But somehow, these two things in transit comingled. Talked to, at and with each other. And even more somehow, the book not yet here came to symbolize that better future that lies at the end of the tunnel. And the longer it took to arrive, the stronger the symbolism.
At this point, we have both more or less given up hope on the Book getting here. Which is rather a shame, because it is the perfect book for me. Not to read, necessarily, but as a platonic idea of what kind of book I would/should have around.
It still makes me smile. And it makes me hope for that better future that has yet to happen.