The Letter
I’m not feeling strong yet, but I am taking good care of myself. The weather is perfect. I read and walk all day and then walk to the sea. I expect to swim soon. For now I am content. I am not sure what I hope for. I feel I am doing my best. It reminds me of when I was sixteen dreaming of Lorca, the gentle trees outside and the creek. Perhaps poetry replaces something in me that others receive more naturally. Perhaps my happiness proves a weakness in my life. Even my failures in poetry please me. Time is very different here. It is very good to be away from public ambition. I sweep and wash, cook and shop. Sometimes I go into town in the evening and have pastry with custard. Sometimes I sit at a table by the harbor and drink half a beer.
Linda Gregg
