A poem, oposssum, a podcast (?)
Mental composting since the days in my tent on the blueberry farm in southern Maine, Letters to Georgia, a fiction podcast, is finally here!
I will be sharing scripts and (not even remotely) secret coloring pages related to each episode in the Letters to Georgia tab in the menu here. Episodes are published every other Sunday (that means the next episode will be here January 10th, 2021) wherever you find your podcasts.
Script, Episode One (A poem, opossum, and other nonsense
Interior, morning. Rachel is drinking tea in their kitchen, begrudgingly recording a voice-memo journal entry.
Rachel
Alriiight, here we go, here we gooooooo [SERIOUS] Dear diary, [snort, stick with it] my name is Rachel Bardin and I am 28 years old. My favorite color is blue and I don’t have a crush on anyone for reason’s I’m only willing to discuss- in person- with my therapist. [GIGGLE]
Can’t believe she’s making me do this.
Okay, so, future Rachel, or aliens who invade Earth and don’t respect my DO NOT READ sticker, my therapist Margot recommended journaling to “help cope with…” something? Honestly I can’t remember much besides making a snarky comment about being too lazy to bother buying a composition book and finding my pens but she was ready for that and instead told me to just “use my phone” and journal digitally. It’ll help to get my thoughts out of my brain and onto paper. And if I stick with it at the same time every day or whatever schedule it’ll help adjusting to the move and building some structure into my life.
That’s the part that stuck with me, so here goes.
I just moved into my new house last weekend. One that I bought with money inherited from my grandmother and the self control of someone who had their heart completely and utterly destroyed. It’s been a few months now and I am feeling a bit better about that part at least. Kelly can take her fancy car and her fancy new partner and ROT for all I care but hey- I got a super cute if questionably yellow house out of it so which of us is actually losing?
Bought it for a steal from a woman named Georgia, took it as a sign because that’s Mom’s name after all. Wish I had the chance to meet her face to face, she sounded like a hoot- she managed to make the realtor snort like a pig for several minutes during our last phone call. [Starts walking around]
The house is in pretty good shape, comfortably worn in. Every single room is a slightly different shade of yellow though, so that’s pretty high on the fix-it list, tho I still haven’t gotten to it yet. Alo getting the raccoons out of the basement, or is it an opossum? It’s messing with the electrical and I’m tired of the lights flickering or just turning on by themselves. Oh right- side note, side note-, I need to ask Coop if they remember that mailbox, theres a second one and I don’t know if it’s a neighbors or just an old one. Every time I go to the post office or even call them I manage to forget all about it! Margot said it’s probably just post-moving stress. Lemme just, [SCRATCHING SOUNDS, THEY’RE WRITING A NOTE ON THEIR HAND] there we go. Handwritten note, no excuse now. [MORE WALKING, LOUD SIGH AND AUDIBLE DROP ONTO A COUCH]
Uhh, let’s see-- what else? What else? Haven’t met the neighbors yet- I can’t even see their houses really. Town is just a ten minute bike ride though so that is super sweet. Dug my panniers out first thing for ye olde inaugural groceries and what not. Oh yeah, unloaded my last few things last night. Not everything is in its proper home yet but that’s my big goal for next week. [LONG DRINK OF TEA]
It’s a two bedroom cottage, so plenty of space for when Coop or mom come visit which- oh crap! It’s after ten, I gotta call him! [SOUNDS OF TAPPING AND PUSHING AWAY THE RECORDER- BUT DIDN’T STOP RECORDING PROPERLY. DRUMMING FING ERS ON TABLE WITH FAINT RINGING SOUNDS]
Come on Coop, pickup pickup pickup … Hi Cooper! How’s it--
(Pauses, interrupted)Rachel! You give up yet country mouse? We miss you!!
Aww, I miss you too and-- what?? No! I haven’t “given up yet” you butt. I just wanted to--
(Interrupted again, Cooper is making a joke) You’re right, I’m the only one of us with a butt deary
[snorts] In your dreams. Quit interrupting me! Before I forget again, I’m looking at it right now out the window-- Was there always a second mailbox next to mine? Uhh-- blue, tacky old fashioned white flowers painted on it, no number but looks beat to hell?
(Cooper is talking, can’t really remember, suggests she snoops)Uhh, can’t recall. Maybe? You had a lot of boxes. Just take a peek inside, commit mail fraud dude.
I’m not committing mail fraud! And don’t you dude me![Pauses, groans] Alright, alright. I’ll give a little snoop-- as a treat, not like there’s any other actual neighbors around here who can see.
(Cooper talks for a bit, tells her she should open them, or call the post office.) OOh, open them! WHats inside? If your names on it they belong to you
I-- yeah, that’s a good idea.[Calming down] I’m sure the post office is closed now but I’ll call- again- first thing tomorrow and ask what’s up.
(Pause, Cooper’s talking. RACHEL laughs)
Yeah yeah yeah, oh snap, I left my laptop recording, Margot recommended-- [CUTS OFF AS THEY STOP RECORDING]
INTERIOR, EVENING.
So, it took awhile with all the distractions- but my bedroom and the office are all squared away now- but I did peek in the blue mailbox. There was mail inside, three letters. It’s all sent to Georgia, she’s the old woman who lived here before me, but-- they’re all C/oed to me. [Ruffling of enveloped being flipped around and around again]
But not like, proper post office ya know, huh, there’s not even stamps on any of them. Just the house address, a hand written “Care of RACHEL” scrawled under that. Oh wait, this blue one has some flower stickers on it. Hmm.
I’ve been texting with Coop all day, asked me to send him anything good! And I finally got ahold of the post office, there’s no record of a second mailbox at this address, but the lady said if stuff has my name on it, it’s mine, so there goes the joy of petty crime.
Anyways, There were three letters when I went out this afternoon.
This first one is small, party invite size and light blue. The address is written with a marker and takes up most of the envelope. I can hardly read it, but Georgia’s name is unmistakable. The ℅ notice is written in purple pen in small, neat cursive, like the other two. No stamp, but there is a piece of messy masking tape across the closure. Looks like it didn’t seal properly. [Sound of careful paper tearing] It’s a quarter folded piece of printer paper. Oh hey, there’s a pen note at the top, but looks like it died.
“My dearest Georgia, I heard through the grape vine you were leaving us, so I hope this last note finds you in good health, ready for your new adventure. I am writing from a small cafe in Oslo, waiting for my flight to Uulanbaataar. Not directly, you know, but Stella is waiting for me there, and there’s only a small layover in Beijing. Warmly, G-scribble scribble scribble.” They couldn’t finish signing off with that pen, rip little bud.
Below that is, wow-- uhh, that’s a limerick in sharpie.
There once was a tom cat in Oslo
His tail held quite high in bravado
But a quick dip in the Alna
Had his heart racing “hell nah”
And he napped and became a marshmallow
Aww, that’s super sweet, they even filled in all the blank spaces with little hearts. I wonder who Stella is, and G and how they know Georgia.
One down, two to go. This next one is-- sterile? I don’t know how to describe it. The envelope doesn’t have a crease or fold in it, and the penmanship is-- uncomfortably perfect. If there weren’t divots from the pen I’d say it was typed. Again, no stamp or return address. [Paper tearing, unfolding, mutters of reading something sad over] Big yikes, Coop. We got ourselves a Dear John. Well, dear Marcus. This one is rough, but still, sterile and emotionally detached It’s like someone wrote this past the point where they could feel anything anymore but still had to let that burnt out anger be productive, ya know?
Dear Marcus, I know about you and Leonard. I think in some ways I have always known. You two have always been so close. Disconcertingly close. Even after we married I found myself envying your friendship-- bond, or whatever you call it. Despite the throes of anguish you have sent me to I find myself happy for you. This does nothing to soothe that deep ache in my chest, burning and cold and hard all at once. I have never known pain like this, Marcus. This utter betrayal-- I will not be able to show my face on the island again. The shame of being left is too great to bear. I hope you and Leonard are happy. I am writing you from the ferry. This letter will go in the post at the next city, and by the time you receive it I will be well on my way to my mother’s house. Please do not follow, although I’m sure you wouldn’t now even if I begged. I am giving you a clean break, my heart could not bear this otherwise. I left my ring in the medicine cabinet. Do with it what you will, I cannot think to look upon it again. As soon as I am able I will have the proper paperwork sent over from Barnabus and Sons. I don’t want anything of ours, keep it and do with it as you may. I love you, Sarah.
(long pause)
Ouch. Third-wheeling wife, been there. [Cough] Alrighty, now last one isssssss-- super cute! A larger envelope again, looks like one of those colorful patterned birthday card ones. Address is written in crayon, they spelled “Road” wrong, r-o-d-e [Laugh]. It’s covered in stickers, all these little flowers and ponies. [Paper tearing] Another cute one Cooper, looks like a child’s letter to a penpal. Yellow piece of cardstock, hamburger folded. It’s covered in more stickers and doodles on the one side- horses stickers are shooting lasers out their eyes at a giant scribbled tentacle monster if you must know- and the inside is written in more crayon. “Hello Claude St. Le Mar! I am Brigit!!!!!!” -- There are so many exclamation marks. Anyways, “My friend Agga says hello too! He is a majillion foot long purple dragon who eats- eats my toenails” [dramatic pause, whispered WHAT] “and sleeps in my basement. What are your friends like? Do you ride a school bus? What do your clouds look like? Bye, Brigit.”
[Music starts to play, really soft]
Poor Brigit, I’m going to assume Claude never received this letter. I wish there were a return address. Oh well, the mystery of the mailbox deepens, Coop. Text me when you get these, we should make plans for you to come out here, you’d love it. Talk to you later, loser. [Hang up, there’s a few beats of music before end notes]
SABRINA
Hello my lovely listeners this is Sabrina, if you’re looking at our script (and Sabrina plus Willa if you’re a peeping Tom, kindly leave), I just wanted to welcome you to the first episode of “Letters to Georgia,” a bi-monthly podcast concerning the curious contents of a magical, mysterious, magnificently alliterate mailbox. If you’re interested in updates follow us on Instagram @star.room.studio, thats @ star dot room dot studio, our landing center for this series and other fun projects of mine, your host and letter reader. The royal we are delighted you’re here with us, and we’re looking forward to getting to next-next week’s episode.
