Letter 17

Dear Josephine,

There are eternities between spaces. That is my excuse for not writing you sooner; I became lost and found again, an object brought in to discuss during show and tell, although there was all show and no tell.

I am seriously considering a career in educational assessment/testing, and find this both humorous and depressing (in that my life is being carved out at such a young age). I dream of Grecian shores and western mountains. These will be part of the carving, at some point. I think life means learning patience.

How many vague statements can I write to you; will you interpret them as thinly veiled bull-shit or abstractions of truth?

I've finished On the Road and it struck me to be about understanding people's faults and recognizing their beauty and importance in one's life and appreciating everything - in the ramblings was America, in a form rarely seen yet seen everyday.

Take me on a road trip, Josephine. Let's wander down the southern coast and lose ourselves in Texas. We can pretend we've been abandoned by circumstances and intended mistakes, frequent dinners and converse with strangers. I'm packing an atlas and a handful of dresses, I suggest you bring water bottles and suntan lotion. Summer is here, and her heat makes fools of us all.

yours,

l.c.s.