"More feelings than words"

November 3, 1997

Dear Nathan,

I loved your phone call. Nothing’s better to me. I get lonely for you. We’ve had some good talks. Some remain in my memory--sweet snatches--more feelings than words. It’s raining. I’ve just taken Karen to the airport. This morning, the wind is blowing all the beautiful golden leaves from the trees, gluing them to our wet house. Dad is in Arizona on business. I am into my letter box, reading snatches of bad writing I’ve kept over the years.

I opened a pack of letters returned to us when Grandpa died--letters we had written them back in 1970. You were about six months younger than Jake then. I thought I’d pass along a few words.

May 25, 1970 (Matt not 2 and you 6 months)

Nathan had his first mouthful of dirt. I had him out in his stroller while I was hanging clothes, and Matt packed his mouth full. He didn’t protest at all, and I found him happily chewing on it when I came out from behind the sheet I’d just hung. Dirt in his suit, his diaper, his hair, and his ears. Three hours later, he was still spitting dirt he must have swallowed. I wondered why Matt had been so quiet. Matt keeps bringing little rocks into the house--all about the size of the end of his thumb. These go in the baby’s mouth, too.

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