You are wonderful, comfortable, routine, that which replenishes me every night and allows me to survive, sometimes hard to attain, earlier than usual in China, and sometimes you leave me with mosquito bites in the morning though I know that's not your fault.
You have always been magical. You are poetry, you are eternal, you are the the Major Works of authors who must set their own deadlines, who must scour and squeeze from every last inch of their brain to complete parts of you but then you are devoured by readers in moments and have their minds happily nourished and enriched for it.
Dear, dear family,
Quite literally, you are life. Without you I am nothing, I am no one to anyone. You belong to me, and I am most gratefully, most happily, most obligingly yours - always.
You supplement me, allow me to share my moments with you, enter and share my life as I do yours. We have understanding, a knowledge of one another that is so special to me. You are my companions - and if not for later, so what? That we have now is enough. I miss you. You are a family entirely of your own.
You are the world, every thought I have, every thanks I give, every bit of good and bad that is in me. I am in your hands. Thank You for the good health, the sleep, the books, the family and the friends, and for my consciousness of it all!