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Where do I start?

Monday June 2, 2020

Dear Thomas,

It's been three months since I received your letter.

Considering our relationship has been so one-sided, I was completely blown away, in utter shock that you wrote back. I didn't share your letter with too many people. Of course, I did tell my husband, who appeared skeptical. He's hesitant to believe that someone who died could pass a message to the living via an old typewriter. Please thank Mr. Giuseppe Ravizza for his help.

Unfortunately, there's another reason I didn't write back immediately. I've been overwhelmed with what has happened not only here, but everywhere in our world. As I sit in your woods, my heart weighs heavy for the safety of our children, family, friends, staff and our guests.

We're in the middle of a pandemic. I understand you survived the Revolutionary War and more. But today's world is different or, maybe it's not at all. We think we understand the sacrifices our fore fathers made. Do we really? And if we do, why is there such strife still? For now, we're quarantined inside our homes due to Coronavirus 19 that has killed over 100,000 Americans and over 370,000 people in the world. Here in Vermont, there have been 54 deaths and in Windsor County, 2.

The inn, like all businesses in Vermont, has been closed since mid March and just recently, we opened for take-out food. Last week, we began welcoming guests to dine outside on the back deck.

Because COVID-19 is so contagious, the Governor recommends businesses require everyone wears masks and stays six feet apart. We're following that protocol at the inn. Many scientists are working to make a vaccine and it should be available by next year. For now, we wait. We're expecting our Governor to reopen lodging to non residents on June 16.

And today, the world is exceptionally quiet for another reason. We're showing our solidarity that black lives matter. We've joined that stand and will refrain from any posted messages. A few days ago, a black man in Minneapolis was killed by a police officer who knelt down on his neck and suffocated him. I know, you lived through so much more, but we thought this kind of violence was in the past or happened in third world countries, far from anyone in America.

I promise that the next time I write I'll be happier. You know I find the beauty in your land and inside your walls. But it just doesn't seem the right time to talk about it.

Until next time, your home's faithful caretaker,



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