Sunday, November 14, 2010

Dear Henry,

This is almost like a conversation. So how would I start a conversation?

How are you up in Norway?

I tell him about going to the market with Lydia.

I'm trying to make some extra money to visit my sister. Would you meet us in Washington state?

Suddenly every word sounds awkward. Suddenly, I wish I'd grown up somewhere darker.

I don't need an answer right away. But let me know.

I hope you are well and enjoying the darkness.

(Is that funny? I can't tell whether that's funny.)

Best wishes,


I slip the card into the envelope and write my own address.

When I walk down the hill into Puerto Williams, the air snaps with the sea smell, and the sun rains lightly through an afternoon mist.

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