He walked home, already planning the letter he was going to write to Elizabeth. When he got to the house, he bounded through the kitchen to his room, where he had his paper and several fountain pens, to start writing.
October 15, 1886
Elizabeth,
I am writing this letter to you following my first appointment with Dr. Antonio Zuroli, a doctor here in Boston that the professor referred me to. On his door, it says, “Movement Specialist.” Isn’t that a great title?
We talked a lot about my arm, and he gave me a list of exercises to practice with the help of Uncle Benjamin or Aunt Elisia. I think she might be better, since she’ll be more gentle, especially since she’s a grade school teacher. He said I would need the help of another person until I my arm gets better and I can do the exercises on my own. These exercises are supposed to teach my arm how to move again.
The doc said he was very impressed with the condition of my shoulder. He asked if you were a medically trained doctor since the stitching showed talent and training. I thought that would make you laugh.
I will be seeing more of him, and practicing more of the exercises. I want to come back to Mexico, and the ranch, and everybody there, as soon as possible. I really miss you, the kids, all the animals, the river, and the wide open sky. The only animals here in Boston are the birds that fly around the harbor trying to find food, and the only quiet time is late a night. I miss the quiet of the country, and our friends. I also miss you, and your sweet, slow smile. I can’t help thinking that my arm would heal more quickly if you were here to help.
The store is doing better. We’ve been making changes, and sales are starting to pick back up. We’ve been getting a steady stream of people coming in just to express their sympathy for Aunt Hannah. It appears she was quite a favorite, and people have told me they used to come to the store just to visit with her. This makes me both sad and happy. I miss her terribly, but I’m glad I don’t have to see her suffering as the others did.
I hate to report that Uncle Frank isn’t doing well. Lately, we can’t get him out of bed, and he sleeps all day. The doctor has come by to visit him, but he just seems to give Frank more medicines. I don’t know how much longer he’ll be with us, truthfully. I think he really misses Aunt Hannah, and doesn’t seem to have much else to live for.
I’m going to end here so I can get this letter out in the mail on my way to the store.
As always, I look forward to your reply! Give the kids a big hug for me, and tell Pilar to keep tight on her horse. I hope to be there soon to watch her ride her big black pony! She’s going to be a great horse trainer and rider someday, and I want to see her win some big races!
I miss you very much. I wait for the day when we can be together again.
Take care!
Will
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