"I want an open fire and a room full of flowers--spring flowers--against the gray windows
long window boxes of narcissus and daffodils
and a big flip jar of fresh white freesias on the table in the middle of the room.
And red tulips where the firelight will reflect in them.
And bookcases up to the ceiling and two large roomy desks and you at one of them,
and Daffin in front of the fire.
And for lunch (on a yellow tablecloth with mimosa in the center)--
and we would make it ourselves--
clear (canned) soup and a poached egg apiece,
and FRESH asparagus on toast,
and you would read me your latest story."
Lindbergh ends with this last sentence. May I claim it for my own to my three younger sisters, Deb, Teresa, and Jenn? We have poured out our hearts to each other this past week in emails, and I understand how Anne Morrow Lindbergh yearns for her sister and writes this:
"I love you and I miss you..."