Love Letter 52 – Tribe

Love Letter 52 – Tribe

I gratefully rest my twisted torso against the cushioned wicker rocker after an intense week of self healing. I tilt my chin skyward, angling my cheek to the warmth of the slow-setting sun while allowing the sea air to infuse my eagerly expectant lungs. Robbie Robertson whispers in my ear as Mom’s words swell my soul in the final handwritten page of Love Letter 52, December, 1960:

Page 7
Sunday– 7 p.m.
Another wee note before I seal your letter.
Typical Sunday at home — a little more quiet than usual.
Didn’t have the usual tribe over for breakfast but since 5 o’clock have answered the phone at least 6 times and at present – a couple of Don’s buddies are downstairs looking over the car, Jimmy & his dog here, Auntie Bertha & Unk Frank visiting, Ethel having a cup of tea and yours truly sitting in the kitchen finishing your letter.
Will address some cards for Gran and see what else is to be done around here.
Nearly finished my Christmas shopping too — just 2 more gifts.
Have got the invitation list completed and that’s a job well done with.
Well dear will close now –
Much love.
Bye now.
Yours always,
Bette xxxxxxxxx
Chopp – Chopp!!

That sounds about right for a typical Sunday at home, Mom – the elusive calm before the colossal family storm of rotary phones ringing off the hook, fine young fellas fawning over muscle cars and kin feverishly popping in and out of the newly painted Flin Flon castle. And apparently there’s nothing your tribe can do or say to distract you from finishing a wee love note to your ‘man of the hour?!’

You can find me
Somewhere down the crazy river