Dear Sally, I know that you’re frightened and there are many decisions I can’t prepare you for, but you must immediately tell the hospital and funeral director that I’m to be interred intact, in the family plot in West Laurel. Uncle William has the details from Grandpa Gene’s burial. I’ve also enclosed a portrait from the 1968 Republican winter gala. The blue chiffon I wore is my very favorite. I hung it in a gold garment bag in the hall closet beside the mink. Please bring them the lipstick from my handbag and remind them how I like to wear my hair. Will you show them the picture? Sally, I always worried about you because you march to the beat of your own drum, but now I know that’s good. I know your life will be an adventure. I love you, Mom.
Nostalgia - it’s delicate, but potent. Teddy told me that in Greek, “nostalgia” literally means “the pain from an old wound.” It’s a twinge in your heart far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn’t a spaceship, it’s a time machine. It goes backwards, and forwards… it takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It’s not called the wheel, it’s called the carousel. It let’s us travel the way a child travels - around and around, and back home again, to a place where we know are loved.