I can feel the ocean’s waves rushing up to meet me, rumbling below my feet.  Wildly, I wish I could become them.  

Dear Someone, 

The new house is charming.  I love the beach.  It smells like early summers, waving goodbye from a shaded ocean lookout, picking blackberries by the road, and cutting my feet on hidden barnacles.  The spring hasn’t quite warmed up.  I am wearing a sweater, laying on the floor.  I miss what you were to me; it isn’t personal.  I miss the cherry tree outside my window.  It upsets me, but I don’t know why.  I don’t understand.  Everyone is home now, which is to say far away.  In this time, between the cold April showers and June sunshine, I am unhappy.  Could I have helped you?  Every day I walk down to the ocean.  Anyways, hope you are well.   (Postcard From 1952 from Take Care, Take Care, Take Care)

Sadly, Explosions in the Sky