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  • Celeste
  • Dec 7, 2017

I've just been going through all my old correspondence with Isabelle, from when we were very little up to the present date. Anyone who loves Jane Austen can not overlook the fact that the reading and writing of copious amounts of letters must be the second step in trying to emulate a Jane Austen lifestyle - the first being to talk like her characters. I am outfitted with the proper letter-writing tools, but I do not have enough correspondents. My dear cousin Isabelle will always be the best, as you will see from the excerpt below, but I need more.

If you are still not convinced, read this paragraph, taken from a letter Isabelle wrote me in February of 2015.

"I love writing and receiving letters to and from you. I cannot rightly compare it to getting a really good novel that you’ve heard tons about, so I’ll settle for a monthly magazine.

"It comes when you’re least/most expecting it. When you are really too busy to read it but desperately want to. When you need quick encouragement and a jolly laugh at some inside joke or perfectly-worded, clever comment. You stop by the post office. Someone goes in and gets the mail. You scan the stack for anything interesting that might involve you. You’re beginning to think, “aw, maybe next time,” when something catches your eye. That old, familiar, welcoming handwriting. You don’t even need to read the name on the envelope ‘cause you already know who it’s for. You pick it up and read the front anyways, trying to decide whether to read it now or save it for your favourite solitary spot at home. Eventually, you tear it open, full of anticipation for that bundle of news, stories, comedies, prayers, encouragements, and a countless supply of other topics as well. Each time your clever cousin thinks up something new to amuse/update/encourage/sadden you, and once you get past the “dear Isabelle”, you laugh out loud for sheer delight, but then realize you’re still in a van packed with people, especially sisters who’ve just been asking if there’s anything in there for them. Now you get a chorus of “what’s so funny?” and “what’s wrong” and “what did she say?” and “what? WHAT?!?” Sadly, the letter is quickly read, and you stare out the window, mentally marveling once again at the pure cleverness of Celeste D. Lawrenson."

Now, grab a pen and send me a letter at the enclosed address. There's a good girl!

The eldest Miss Lawrenson

Box 81

Sanford, MB ROG 2J0

 
  • Celeste
  • Nov 24, 2017

Thursday, Nov. 23rd was moving day - for the end goal of this whole build was to move Oma and Opa out of that dear old farmhouse and into the newly built one. The last week has been quite the flurry of activity - for once there was more going on at the old house than at the build site--sorry, new house. But yesterday afternoon things slowed down and all of us - the Aunties cleaning wearily, the cousins dancing in the big open living room, the teenagers reminiscing and the Uncles coming back from the build s--new house, on the pretense of hauling one last load of boxes but really to be at the old house - had time to go from room to room, shedding tears and saying good-bye. Then all us cousins were sent to the new house so mopping could commence, and I drove a carload of kids away, all of us sobbing the whole way there. That was the last time we were at Oma and Opa's house and the house my mother grew up in.

It was a strange supper that evening, all of us sitting on dining room chairs and three big easy chairs in the new garage, with a pile of boxes and furniture behind us that reached to the ceiling. We sang a song before we ate, the tears streaming down our cheeks, and afterward we said good-bye to our cousins and Oma and Opa and drove home.

Home! I am home for good after a month at camp and three months at the build. It is good to be home for Christmas this year. Merry Christmas everyone!

 

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