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