Friday, June 1, 2012

Take the Back Way Home

Dear John,

This is the first day of June, and the high was 52.  The house is closed and the heat on. Wierd.

I can't believe it's June.  We would have gone to St. Ignace last week - in between our anniversary and the Lilac Festival, before the tourists arrive and the prices go up. I can't imagine I'll ever go back. There would be no point in being there without you, and there are too many memories of being there with you. I can go there in my mind any time I want to, and I do occasionally. But in my mind you're there with me.

You were always so nice about letting me ride the front row of the top deck of the ferry. It's not quite like what I did when I was a kid - straddling the front of an outboard motor boat and hanging on to the rope - but it was the closest I could get. I really never minded when it was cold and you stayed below like a sensible person. You understood how much I love the water, even though you didn't feel the same way.

I know you did love going to the Island, though, and going to Whitefish Point. From the beginning we enjoyed the same things. We loved driving around new places, wandering through little shops, finding little local places to eat. We didn't have to be doing much - the thing was just being together. We both loved the back roads and the long, slow route - what we saw on the way somewhere was as much a part of the trip as the somewhere was. We had wanted to drive Route 66 together and explore more of the Lincoln Highway. I may do that some day; if I do, I'll wish you were with me.

Now I'm off to bed, wishing you were with me. 

Loving you and wishing you were with me,
Joan.

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