─ It’s all I think about every day. Your car coming down the driveway. I put the kids to bed early. I make a grocery list, I cook butterscotch pudding. I never let my hands idle. Brushing my hair, drinking my milk… and it’s all in a kind of fog because I can’t stop thinking about this. I want you so badly.
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, and it takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It’s not called 'The Wheel.’ It’s called 'The Carousel. It lets us travel the way a child travels. Around and around and back home again. A place where we know we are loved.
Dear Betty, I’m sitting in the Roosevelt looking at the backs of Bobby and Sally’s heads as they watch TV. I’m not letting them change the channel because watching the news makes me sick and they can see it. I think about you and how I behaved and my regret. I know it’s my fault that you are not here right now. I think about tomorrow where you’ll be and the day after that as well. I understand why you feel it’s better to go on without me and I know that you won’t be alone for very long, but without you, I’ll be alone forever. I love you. Don.