Through the fire and flames, we carry on!

"I understand these things," my professor says to my Dear "John" letter. "I wasn't always eighty, you know."
..

I think of what I want but even in shin-deep snow, I am full--really full--reading and running by day, flipping by night, writing even later at night. I have the songs to keep me singing--the laughter--the intrigue--

Calm and concrete enough to say, What does it matter?
..

And in keeping with letters:

Dear Sarah,
I miss you!