Stone Diaries, The - Carol Shields [82]
The memory of our "lady’s-slippers" discussion has, of course, led me into wondering whether you perhaps viewed our marriage in a similar way, as a trap from which there was no easy exit. Between us we have almost never mentioned the word love. I have sometimes wondered whether it was the disparity of our ages that made the word seem foolish, or else something stiff and shy in our natures that forbade its utterance. This I regret. I would like to think that our children will use the word extravagantly, and moreover that they will be open to its forces. (Alice does worry me though, the ferocity of her feelings.)
Do you remember that day last October when I experienced my first terrible headache? I found you in the kitchen wearing one of those new and dreadful plastic aprons. You put your arms around me at once and reached up to smooth my temples. I loved you terribly at that moment. The crackling of your apron against my body seemed like an operatic response to the longings which even then I felt. It was like something whispering at us to hurry, to stop wasting time, and I would like to have danced with you through the back door, out into the garden, down the street, over the line of the horizon. Oh, my dear. I thought we would have more time.
Your loving Barker Ottawa, May 20, 1955
Dear Mrs. Flett, I beg you to accept my sincere condolences regarding your sad loss. In the course of these last few years I have had the honor of becoming acquainted with your late husband, and very quickly I came to value his weekly contribution to the Recorder. You may be sure that the many readers of his column—and they are legion—will sorely miss their esteemed "Mr. Green Thumb." His dignified tone contributed a rare sense of scholarship to these pages, and yet was never condescending.
In acknowledgment of your husband’s contribution, the staff here at the Recorder has assembled two specially bound copies of his articles, one to deposit with the National Archives, with your permission of course, and one which we would like to present to you and your family during the course of an informal memorial ceremony we are planning to hold at our offices here on Metcalfe Street.
Can you let me know if June 1, 4:30 p.m., is agreeable to you?
Yours in sympathy, Jay W. Dudley, Editor P.S. Mr. Flett’s demise seems particularly poignant at this time of the year when the city is ablaze with tulips. His articles on the annual Tulip Festival were among his most lyrical.
Climax, Saskatchewan, May 24, 1955
Dear Auntie, We sure were upset to get your letter about Uncle Barker passing away. Mom and Dad and the girls send their deep felt sympathy and say to tell you they will remember all of you and him too in their prayers. But as Mom says, it can’t be too great a shock for you, what with him being so much older in years. I’ve been thinking lately that it won’t be easy for you with three kids only half grown and that big house to look after, a regular mansion if I remember right, but then I was only there the once. It seems like a dream, in fact, looking back. So in the next little while if you happen to find you need a hand in the house, maybe you could drop me a line. I’m looking at moving East now that my husband and I have called it quits. Drink was the main problem there. And general laziness. Someone with my kind of pep gets driven straight up the wall by another person just laying around. I’d be willing to work for my room and board and forty dollars a month. I’m a pretty fair housekeeper, if I do say so myself, and just crazy about baking cakes, pies, buns, what have you. Also laundry, ironing, etc. Also, I can type, as you can see, thirty-five words a minute, it was through a correspondence