Dearest Charles-- I found a box of this paper at the back of a bureau so I must write to you as I am mourning for my lost innocence. It never looked like living. The doctors despaired of it from the start. . . I am never quite alone. Members of my family keep turning up and collecting luggage and going away again, but the white raspberries are ripe. I have a good mind not to take Aloysius to Venice. I don't want him to meet a lot of horrid Italian bears and pick up bad habits. Love or what you will. S.
I tend to look at the good things about what's going on in life, and I do that the best I can. At the end of the day - I have felt outside at times - but always man, I keep my eyes on the prize and know that I can get inside if I choose.