This is the fifty-third of 87 letters exchanged during World War II between Nicholas Salvatore and Elizabeth Galloway. For more see Nicholas and Elizabeth.
November 22, 1944
To do lists that never get done
There is a place that I long to go with every fiber of my being. It’s a simple place; the sky never ends and words don’t matter. It seems so far away now. I don’t want to be a dreamer for the rest of my life. Why is it so hard to find a day to day contentment? I went to Colorado once and fell madly in love with the state. It’s the only happy memory I have of our entire family together out here. My parents didn’t fight once. My father treated me like he loved me. We stayed on a Mesa overlooking majestic mountains and a small town. You can walk everywhere and as the months go by you can hear the sounds of the changing seasons under your feet. That is the life.
What can I tell you about this place? Here nothing changes. Nothing worthwhile at least. It’s big news when the general store carries a new magazine or a new dress pattern. It’s not as if I’m trying to avoid telling you about this place, there’s not much to tell. Maybe you’re right, maybe I’m not seeing it. Most everyone else seems content here, but maybe that’s because this is all they’ve ever known. Yet there seems to be some sort of intrinsic sense of wanting more deep in everyone – there has to be. It makes no sense how these people talk about being a part of the “wild west” and get all worked up talking about the “brave pioneers” who explored and settled all this unknown land but they themselves have settled here and put blinders on as if there were no adventures left to be had.
Before I made my way to Texas my mother and father were slowly but surely tearing me apart. The fact that I planned on leaving no matter what had my father in a bright rage. He made sure to tell me every day that I was selfish and ridiculous for wanting to go and that I would not have any help from him. Around him I was in a constant state of tears and anger… There was no love in my life.
And now I have you. Everything else is still a mess, but now I have you. That makes it all worth it.
Next letter – November 24, 1944