Thirty-two

Peggy,

    I wanted to thank you for the mention in your book in the last postcard, but forgot (old person moment). 

    So thank you.

    Oh, and jealous as hell. I've been writing since before we met. You got a taste of it when we were letter writing buddies...shit, how long ago was that! I wrote jealous, but I kind of like it when I'm not writing for others, except letters, of course. Does your husband share your love of writing?

    I love libraries. Which is why I was in the town's one when I met her. Oh, research, sort of, I sit at a warm wooden table, (the chair is wooden, no cushion but it fit me...my ass so well, I didn't really notice) among warm wooden shelves nearly a hundred years old (she said). Of course, once we met I was there everyday, all day (sometimes) and the comfort was as if I was home in bed, reading.

    Sorry. I never married, though I had one of those relationships (a few years after the grace of that library) that was, in all honesty, a marriage. Lasted a few years. Then when I woke up, she had left already. I try not to play the blame game, usually am successful, but fall off the wagon once in a blue moon (as my mother used to say). We didn't procreate either. Fortunately. Probably would be legally married if we had, but my lack of communication and other social skills, would have ended it badly. As it is, we do have a nice get together once a year or so.

    I've rambled.

    She knows. She has an ex also.