Friday once more! Forgive me for not writing sooner, I was at work from morning to just now. Nine hours socializing is not good for the soul (a few less would do). How are you doing? How are you feeling?
It snowed here but a few days ago at night. Aaron came home from a ball game covered in it. Everyone is sad about the weather but I like it very much (though who can ever confess that; that makes for poor talk to disagree). There is nothing so nice as a good storm or snow, but I am privileged and shortsighted to speak when I say I like the power to go out. Are you waiting for the sun? Is it cold down there? It is usually cold in Eugene. The rain reminds me too well of home, and I like it for that. Perhaps it seems shallow to speak of the weather so much, but I enjoy it; weather has such an effect on emotion that to not speak would feel like deliberate aversion.
I want to go out walking most days, but I find most times that I am too depressed to do so. Depressed is not hyperbole, I am too low to get up. Sometimes I wish I were worse, so something more would be done. It probably wouldn’t be good, but it would be something different. I hope you’re not also mentally ill because of what Mom’s done. It’s quiet, consistent agony that will flare.
I am going to go eat now. I wake early tomorrow. But a few hours to my own time, alas. Goodnight, Soren, sleep well. I can almost see you across from me in your own bed, or beside and below, if I try.
With love,
Alice