One.
That morning, I went to the mailbox expecting the usual. Looking through the junk, the envelope fell onto the sidewalk. The handwriting was my own from sixty years ago. “Return to Sender – US ARMY” stamped on it.
My own words of love, words of promise, of great news to share. I miss you, I want you, I need you. Please come home soon, I can’t do this with out you.
My brother took the picture on our way home from the doctor’s office. Jim proposed there. We spent our last night there. It was the last spot we made love. I can smell junipers and jasmine.
After we got word, I couldn’t leave this place. It was home. The closest thing I had to him
(A little long)
And, Susan and I are in the same brain space.
That picture made me think of northeast Pennsylvania, where I used to try to go every summer when I lived in Philly so I could stand on hills and look at corn growing. I don't think it actually is PA--the hills aren't quite the right shape. But that's what it made me think of, and I took the note on the picture and went from there.
And Aimee makes me all misty-eyed!
Funny - it reminds me of California. Specifically, the pictures Kristin linked to from her drive down the coast.
Oh, Aimee, how lovely and ghosty.
If I had to guess where it actually is, I'd say Oregon or Washington, by the number of trees and the angles of the hills. But it still pinged my rural Pennsylvania brainspace somehow--probably because that's one of the places I'm intermittently homesick for.
I feel the same way about northern Michigan.
Oh, beautiful drabbles.
This drabble topic is going to break me.
