(Sheet music in button). This piece is about a special experience from one moment when I was near base of the steps at the street entrace of a building at a local university, where I stooped to pick up a piece of paper.

I expected it to be a meaningless form or printed notice to throw away, but instead, it was a poignant 2-page handwritten letter from a girl to her mother, signed "Carra." However, it had no envelope, address, last name, or phone number to trace. I'm sure it blew or fell out of her purse or books and she must have later noticed it was missing. (The words were in English, but signed "tu hija," so later I tried to add a light touch of Spanish feeling to the music.)

It was sad to have no way to return the letter, so months later, I thought I would photograph it like I found it, at about the same time of year, and I let it rest on the foliage of a rhododendron in flower in my yard on Mother's Day. This piece is for Carra and her mother, and all of us who should find the right words and time to deliver them. I don't know where it should have gone, but this way, the letter was not a total loss.

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