1/11/43 the letter is dated, from my grandmother, Mary, to her brother, David. "You are widening what we both know has been a limited horizon; what difference does it make if it's a little uncomfortable at first? You're doing things—new things, while I sit home and do the same damn thing over and over again." Never still, we either long for change or lament it. It's like sour candy, some people suck slowly, savoring the puckery tang, others crunch past the tart outer layer to get to the sugary center. Either way when it's gone, it's gone.

early morning thunder
I check the windows
in your empty room