The day is early and the thoughts are long and yearning. Sometimes I wake with this yearning to call my sister. Maybe it is the dreams of the night that provoke this feeling, I have never pinned it down.
When we were young, between 18-20, we would go to coffee houses and sit and talk about the boys we were dating, a dress I was making, her play at college that she was in, a fight with our parents. Just regular talk that girls have with each other.
Along came our late thirties and early forties. We both had the burdens of life weighing us down. And in the mail I received this card and the enclosed poem. My sister was always writing, writing poems, love letters to her family, journaling. She always used the written word to express her inner self. I have kept them all.
This painting by Edward Hopper expresses the connection that we had. Each girl leaning into the other with the urgency of communication. This is what we experienced. We listened to each other when no one was talking.
Because of the unexplained emptiness that one feels in Edward Hopper's paintings, he is my favorite painter. I have driven down early morning streets and felt like an escapee from "Nighthawks". The aloneness that he addresses is speaking to me. I did have the fortune of seeing "Nighthawks" at the Pasadena Art Museum many years ago. It is not a large painting (approx 17" x 30") but it certainly looms large in the consciousness.
My card has faded in the passing years but the feelings of those days are still beautiful and clear.