Saturday, February 15, 2003


A pancake from this morning makes my fingers and lips greasy as I type this. I wrote something else but the computer had it for its breakfast, what can I say, it picks the wrong moments to be hungry.

I wanted to say that I miss talking to you, but that I think of you often. I read what you write online and miss being able to give you consolatory hugs, about your Grampy, about being stuck in the bus station. I wrote about how I understood the bus station as Will and I spent the major part of a day in the train station in Van, with our bags packed all round us on the shiny marble floor, Will on the payphone or else doing handstands (Me: "I'm tired of doing all the planning", frustration pushing truth to the surface) and the Vancouver sun streaming in the tall windows.

I think of you when I go into Whistler's overpriced art store (Lotus), and your dream of a house in the future inspired me and I lived my day better because of it. I think of you when I'm lifting Julia in my arms and showing her the pictures on my wall of friends back home ("Who's that?" "That's Jacky, one of my best friends, we were at prom." "What's prom?") You would really like this little girl. People ask her what her passion is and in her seven-year-old voice she says, sure as anything, "art!"

We will see each other again soon, and remark at the passing of time. Tell many stories of places we've been, enjoy summer evenings on the Island. And I wanted to tell you that you're doing it beautifully, this living of life. You're weathering everything so well, and with such grace. I admire you greatly. I am 3000k away from you, but that's perfectly alright. We'll talk again soon.

Love, Leah

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