the letter to Lydia

 The poem, the song, the picture, is only water drawn from the well of the people, and it should be given back to them in a cup of beauty so that they may drink.  And in drinking understand themselves.  Federico Garcia Lorca 

Dear Lydia

 Dear Lydia

Now I’m writing a word.

I picked up the sauna brush from the post office yesterday along with the papers and the almanac. 

I shouted your praises when I tried it.  It has long bristles and such a long handle that now I don’t need to use a shovel to scrub my back anymore.  

My life is nothing like it was.  It’s always the same.  I’ve been alone for a long time.  Heikki is always out there in the bush in the winter.  

My grandmother Anna’s letter to her sister in Finland, November 27, 1959.  (google translated from the original Finn into English)