'Memories that don't belong to me,' I sometimes think as I unfold and smooth letters, flick through photo albums. It's in 1925 in the collection I am working with now and I admit to being smitten with the letter's author. I can't help that it as easy to fall into rapport or love with the dead as easy as the living.
It was my parents wedding anniversary yesterday. Lyrically, it is their second since my father died even though he has only been dead a year. He timed it just so...6 years is all he could take on this plane without my mother.
I honoured them both, going to work, talking about military life and genealogy. Later, I went for a milkshake with my daughter and a family friend. We drove back to the Corner house for a bit of quiet time before my youngest got home. I marvel on the drive home at how...myself I feel since starting HRT. Is it the placebo effect? I'll wonder this over the next few days as my interior word levels out and I learn how to navigate being allergic to the sun.
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