August 11, 1946
Dear Lawrence,
Hello! It is very fortunate that you remembered my address. If my memory serves me correctly, the exchange occurred quite hastily. I very much appreciated receiving your letter, it was quite a delight. Honestly I did expect our little companionship to end once we split, but I am thankful that you sent this letter to me. As soon as I was traveling away from York Beach, I was wishing that it was not over. That is not to say that you were the highlight, the best part of it, but you were certainly up there. In fact, you were important enough for me to keep this chain of letters going. So, congratulations.
I've been doing alright. It seems our families are alike, in that when we are away from company we become regular savages. My mother and father have gone back to praising my sister for everything she does. That is, that's what they do when they aren't arguing about every silly issue that comes our way. It is so cliche, isn't it? The youngest child always gets the short straw. You were right in your letter about Vivian, and I do not fault you for pointing out that truth. She can be quite frustrating at times. However, I love her, in the complicated way that siblings do. If anything I am more self-aware because of her. It is something that, perhaps as an only child, you might not have obtained.
In fact, in your writing you seemed quite afraid that I would not deem you worthy of a reply. Despite your lack of self-assurance in your letter, there was no doubt that I was going to reply. Would you think of me as rude enough to not reply? It would break my spirit if you had. Especially since our accidental excursions at the beach were so filled with laughter and joy. You told me in your writings that you had not had that much fun in years. Well, I ask of you, was that what you were thinking as we walked?
I, for one, could not pull my thoughts away from anything but the beauty of it all. The gentleness of the waves seemed to elongate every back-and-forth sway. Rushing water was a delicate background to every word and laugh that came from either of us. The light of the summer sun illuminated every gorgeous feature of it all.
I am quite sorry, Lawrence. I can get a bit carried away with my writing, especially in letters to others. Usually I don’t write so much about one little event, however, usually the things I do aren’t as intriguing as our outing was. In any case, I will take after you and hope that you don’t think of me as too weird to reply to. However, I do believe we have established our oddities well enough to each other already. Let us revel in our linguistic weirdness.
Sincerely,
Margaret
Dear Lawrence,
Hello! It is very fortunate that you remembered my address. If my memory serves me correctly, the exchange occurred quite hastily. I very much appreciated receiving your letter, it was quite a delight. Honestly I did expect our little companionship to end once we split, but I am thankful that you sent this letter to me. As soon as I was traveling away from York Beach, I was wishing that it was not over. That is not to say that you were the highlight, the best part of it, but you were certainly up there. In fact, you were important enough for me to keep this chain of letters going. So, congratulations.
I've been doing alright. It seems our families are alike, in that when we are away from company we become regular savages. My mother and father have gone back to praising my sister for everything she does. That is, that's what they do when they aren't arguing about every silly issue that comes our way. It is so cliche, isn't it? The youngest child always gets the short straw. You were right in your letter about Vivian, and I do not fault you for pointing out that truth. She can be quite frustrating at times. However, I love her, in the complicated way that siblings do. If anything I am more self-aware because of her. It is something that, perhaps as an only child, you might not have obtained.
In fact, in your writing you seemed quite afraid that I would not deem you worthy of a reply. Despite your lack of self-assurance in your letter, there was no doubt that I was going to reply. Would you think of me as rude enough to not reply? It would break my spirit if you had. Especially since our accidental excursions at the beach were so filled with laughter and joy. You told me in your writings that you had not had that much fun in years. Well, I ask of you, was that what you were thinking as we walked?
I, for one, could not pull my thoughts away from anything but the beauty of it all. The gentleness of the waves seemed to elongate every back-and-forth sway. Rushing water was a delicate background to every word and laugh that came from either of us. The light of the summer sun illuminated every gorgeous feature of it all.
I am quite sorry, Lawrence. I can get a bit carried away with my writing, especially in letters to others. Usually I don’t write so much about one little event, however, usually the things I do aren’t as intriguing as our outing was. In any case, I will take after you and hope that you don’t think of me as too weird to reply to. However, I do believe we have established our oddities well enough to each other already. Let us revel in our linguistic weirdness.
Sincerely,
Margaret