A taste of home

Adam brought home New York City bagels.
Real New York bagels.
The best bagels I have ever tasted because they are New York bagels.

And now I am almost violently homesick.

I miss the Hamptons, Sag Harbor the quiet village. I miss the silence in the morning. I miss being able to model for my mother's art classes. I miss walking through Southampton. I miss shopping at Provisions, Sag Harbor's health food store. I miss Conco D'Oros Pizzeria. I miss sitting on the wharf staring out at all the boats, the yachts, especially Steven Spielberg's Mirabella, such a pretty boat (my mother is now teaching his wife, Kate Capshaw, how to draw). I miss the air. I miss my parents' backyard with my father's work area, the stone sculpting tools laid out on a wood table next to a piece of marble waiting to birth a masterpiece. I miss walking down to the beach, watching the waves.

I want to go home. Just for a few days.

A taste of home

Adam brought home New York City bagels.
Real New York bagels.
The best bagels I have ever tasted because they are New York bagels.

And now I am almost violently homesick.

I miss the Hamptons, Sag Harbor the quiet village. I miss the silence in the morning. I miss being able to model for my mother's art classes. I miss walking through Southampton. I miss shopping at Provisions, Sag Harbor's health food store. I miss Conco D'Oros Pizzeria. I miss sitting on the wharf staring out at all the boats, the yachts, especially Steven Spielberg's Mirabella, such a pretty boat (my mother is now teaching his wife, Kate Capshaw, how to draw). I miss the air. I miss my parents' backyard with my father's work area, the stone sculpting tools laid out on a wood table next to a piece of marble waiting to birth a masterpiece. I miss walking down to the beach, watching the waves.

I want to go home. Just for a few days.

A taste of home

Adam brought home New York City bagels.
Real New York bagels.
The best bagels I have ever tasted because they are New York bagels.

And now I am almost violently homesick.

I miss the Hamptons, Sag Harbor the quiet village. I miss the silence in the morning. I miss being able to model for my mother's art classes. I miss walking through Southampton. I miss shopping at Provisions, Sag Harbor's health food store. I miss Conco D'Oros Pizzeria. I miss sitting on the wharf staring out at all the boats, the yachts, especially Steven Spielberg's Mirabella, such a pretty boat (my mother is now teaching his wife, Kate Capshaw, how to draw). I miss the air. I miss my parents' backyard with my father's work area, the stone sculpting tools laid out on a wood table next to a piece of marble waiting to birth a masterpiece. I miss walking down to the beach, watching the waves.

I want to go home. Just for a few days.

more early scenes (continuation)

It is always the beginning I hate the most. But that's what editing is for.

( The small nervous voice of the young potential novelist )

more early scenes (continuation)

It is always the beginning I hate the most. But that's what editing is for.

( The small nervous voice of the young potential novelist )

more early scenes (continuation)

It is always the beginning I hate the most. But that's what editing is for.

( The small nervous voice of the young potential novelist )

I just really wanted to say this...

I have been thinking. Sometimes thinking hurts, sometimes it blesses. Always, it helps.
I have been thinking about all the life we have gone through so far. How many years has it been -- three, four? We were so careful and cautious. And then, it was glorious. There were so many roadbumps, and in my innocence and naivety I assumed those problems were forever, and then they were resolved and it was all right. People came in and out, some beautiful and some toxic. But through it all, no matter what, through the confusion and anger and frustration and fears and worries and mistakes and misinterpretations... we found each other and we never let go, even when we turned away, even when we thought the other was lost. That part of us that called the other sister never wavered. Because sisters fight. Because sisters cry. Sisters love and hate all at once, and in the end it is all the same because nothing and nobody can ever come between.
So... what I am trying to say is, I love you, Beca. For no reason. Just because.
I love you.


Some day you came
And I knew you were the one
You were the rain, you were the sun
But I needed both, cause I needed you.
You were the one
I was dreaming of all my life
When it is dark you are my light
But don't forget
Who's always our guide.
It is the child in us

I just really wanted to say this...

I have been thinking. Sometimes thinking hurts, sometimes it blesses. Always, it helps.
I have been thinking about all the life we have gone through so far. How many years has it been -- three, four? We were so careful and cautious. And then, it was glorious. There were so many roadbumps, and in my innocence and naivety I assumed those problems were forever, and then they were resolved and it was all right. People came in and out, some beautiful and some toxic. But through it all, no matter what, through the confusion and anger and frustration and fears and worries and mistakes and misinterpretations... we found each other and we never let go, even when we turned away, even when we thought the other was lost. That part of us that called the other sister never wavered. Because sisters fight. Because sisters cry. Sisters love and hate all at once, and in the end it is all the same because nothing and nobody can ever come between.
So... what I am trying to say is, I love you, Beca. For no reason. Just because.
I love you.


Some day you came
And I knew you were the one
You were the rain, you were the sun
But I needed both, cause I needed you.
You were the one
I was dreaming of all my life
When it is dark you are my light
But don't forget
Who's always our guide.
It is the child in us

I just really wanted to say this...

I have been thinking. Sometimes thinking hurts, sometimes it blesses. Always, it helps.
I have been thinking about all the life we have gone through so far. How many years has it been -- three, four? We were so careful and cautious. And then, it was glorious. There were so many roadbumps, and in my innocence and naivety I assumed those problems were forever, and then they were resolved and it was all right. People came in and out, some beautiful and some toxic. But through it all, no matter what, through the confusion and anger and frustration and fears and worries and mistakes and misinterpretations... we found each other and we never let go, even when we turned away, even when we thought the other was lost. That part of us that called the other sister never wavered. Because sisters fight. Because sisters cry. Sisters love and hate all at once, and in the end it is all the same because nothing and nobody can ever come between.
So... what I am trying to say is, I love you, Beca. For no reason. Just because.
I love you.


Some day you came
And I knew you were the one
You were the rain, you were the sun
But I needed both, cause I needed you.
You were the one
I was dreaming of all my life
When it is dark you are my light
But don't forget
Who's always our guide.
It is the child in us