Dear Alice,
I don’t have a story to tell you. All I’ve got is this life I’ve lived, and you already know all about that. Nothin’s been on my mind. Not “no” “thing”—just the idea of it. Thinking of that gets me thinking bad things. Things a person should never want to think about. Could you do me a favor and tell me good things to think about? At least while I’m here?
You asked me to tell you about school so that’s what I’ll do. But just know I wouldn’t want to talk about it, let alone write about it, if you hadn’t asked.
All the people here are different. The rub is they’re all different in the same way. That tends to leave me blowin’ in the wind, but you already know all about that. When you inquired about school, you were talking about the good stuff, right? Well, if you were, my answer depends on your definition of “school.” And “good.” I’d assume you and I think of school in overlapping ways——I can hear Pa sayin’, you know what happens when you assume… Can you hear it too?
I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was going to bring him up. Please don’t quit reading just because I’m no good at doing what I say I will. I’ll tell you about school now, I promise. Just don’t quit on me okay.
I have classes with professors now: no more teachers, just professors. But don’t worry I’m not “going to first” on you. You and I know third is where all the fly balls land, and there ain’t no point in livin’ if you’re never given the chance to catch a fly. That’s what I’m doin’ here Al; I’m trying to catch this fly ball thrown my way with a hole burned in the back of my glove. I’ve gotta catch it just right or face the music of how my life’s supposed to be back home with you, trying to keep Ma alive while locking away memories of Pa. I know I just did it again, but it’s impossible not to. I want you to know, I’m doing all this for us, and I don’t care how many sour-faced first-lacers I have to grin at to get this for us; you’ve always taken care of us, and now it’s my turn. And the really good thing is; I can see it’s my turn, so you know I’ll give it everything I’ve got.
Will you write soon? I’m missin’ all those parts of your mind that make mine seem better than it really is. I’m extra lonely is all, and seeing your pen on paper would make all the difference.
Love, your sister,
Georgie
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