Dear Susan,

2 August 2017

Not a day goes by. You haven’t emailed since June 17th. Your last twitter poem posted on June 20th. I suppose you’re awfully busy. I continue my side of our correspondence as always. I suppose you’d find me grim. I do. Nonetheless, I’m not idle. A week ago I traded in my Subaru for a Toyota Prius 2. I wanted the safety features. As if safety could be found in a car. Drove a whopping 120 miles in this first week, & the gas gauge is down by one sixteenth. At this rate, I’ll buy gas six times a year. Actually, some days, I’m idle, like today. I woke up feeling like sludge. Tova increases my heart beat, but I still find it difficult to smile. She’s putting up with me. I suppose she thinks I’ll recover. A woman in the old folks home next door moans for help for at least an hour every day. I don’t even bother. I’m reading Augustine’s Confessions, & a self-help book by a Buddhist hospice director, & Kinsey Millhone novels. She’s a soft-hearted hard-ass P.I. I scarcely try to figure out whodunit. I just spend my evenings with her. Write if you can.

Love,

Carol