Chapter 6

           WhenIwaseighteen,myUnclePaulthemanIwasnamedfordiedofaheartattack.MymotheranddadtookmetoChicagowiththemtoattendhisfuneralandvisitrelativesfrommyfather’ssideofthefamily,manyofwhomIhadnevermet.Weweregonealmostamonth.Insomewaysthatwasagoodtrip,anecessaryandexcitingtrip,butinanotherwayitwashorrible.Iwasdeeplyinlove,yousee,withtheyoungwomanwhowastobecomemywifetwoweeksaftermynineteenthbirthday.Onenightwhenmylongingforherwaslikeafireburningoutofcontrolinmyheartandmyhead(ohyes,allright,andinmyballs,aswell),IwroteheraletterthatjustseemedtogoonandonIpouredoutmywholeheartinit,neverlookingbacktoseewhatI’dsaidbecauseIwasafraidcowardicewouldmakemestop.Ididn’tstop,andwhenavoiceinmyheadclamoredthatitwouldbemadnesstomailsuchaletter,thatIwouldbegivinghermynakedhearttoholdinherhand,Iignoreditwithachild’sbreathlessdisregardoftheconsequences.IoftenwonderedifJanicekeptthatletter,butneverquitegotupenoughcouragetoask.AllIknowforsureisthatIdidnotfinditwhenIwentthroughherthingsafterthefuneral,andofcoursethatbyitselfmeansnothing.IsupposeIneveraskedbecauseIwasafraidofdiscoveringthatburningepistlemeantlesstoherthanitdidtome.

           Itwasfourpageslong,IthoughtIwouldneverwriteanythinglongerinmylife,andnowlookatthis.Allthis,andtheendstillnotinsight.

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