Writing from Cape Cod, about 5000 kilometers west of St Ives where we are visiting kind friends who invited us for a few days.
It is a beautiful cape with many trees, reeds, and fresh water ponds, and the locals paint red hearts everywhere which is reassuring in these times. The water on the bay is warm and tranquil, and strong cold currents move the sand on the side facing the distance between here and where you were born.
Before arriving I finished reading Going Solo by Roald Dahl, and it made me think of you, as swimming in the ocean does.
The seagulls cry out for you as always, and mom and I miss you very much.
Love you lots,