LJ Idol, Season 9 - Week 6
title: Letter from Paris
topic: step on a crack
Paris
9 May, 1940
Dear Julia,
I received your telegram this morning and my answer to you is the same as my answer to everyone else: this is my home and I am staying. I've made provisions for my children to go to Switzerland. Thierry has friends in Geneva who will look after them until it is safe for them to come home. We have already hidden some of the art, and Thierry wants me to go to the country house to supervise the burying of the family silver. (I told him he was being alarmist. I may be proven wrong.) But I am not going to leave.
You are the only one to whom I can admit my reasoning, because you are the only one I believe will understand. You know I have never been a superstitious woman. I can open an umbrella indoors, walk under a ladder, step on sidewalk cracks without fear of hurting our mother. My friend Celine has four cats, two of them black, and if I were afraid of them crossing my path I could never visit her. I've had thirteen people for a dinner party without mishap, and once I laughed at Thierry for his ridiculous notion that putting a loaf of bread on the table upside-down will invite bad luck.
But knowing all this, I think you will still understand when I tell you that I am worried that if I leave my house to come to New York, there will be nothing left when I return. I cannot put an ocean between myself and my home. My children are going to Switzerland and not to you because I cannot put an ocean between myself and them either. Our feet must all touch the same landmass. This is no doubt all absurd, irrational fancy, and you know how rational I have always been. But it is how I feel, and it is what will give me peace of mind.
Peace of mind is the only peace we have, now. I will take it however I can.
Do not worry about me. I am here in my house with my furniture and my silver and my family, until such time as my children leave for Geneva, and we will see this through. I have given you my reasons for staying, as ridiculous as they may be, and you may find this hard to believe, but I feel safer in my dining room than I would in New York.
I am not afraid, and it will hopefully ease your mind to know I have been taking precautions all the same. But those precautions do not include a fast steamer to New York, and every variation on "Please come home" will be met with the same answer: I am home. And I will stay here.
I am not trying to be obstinate, Julia. Please believe me. I have my reasons and they are important to me. I did not make this decision lightly. You may not wish to, but I think you understand me, for I remember when you were much given to flights of fancy too. You may share this letter if you are comfortable doing so, although I do not think it will make much sense to anyone else that I have refused to leave Paris because I am worried my house will be gone when I come back.
When the war is over, I will come visit you. I promise.
Give Abernathy my love, and James, too, when you see him.
All my love for you,
Aimee
topic: step on a crack
Paris
9 May, 1940
Dear Julia,
I received your telegram this morning and my answer to you is the same as my answer to everyone else: this is my home and I am staying. I've made provisions for my children to go to Switzerland. Thierry has friends in Geneva who will look after them until it is safe for them to come home. We have already hidden some of the art, and Thierry wants me to go to the country house to supervise the burying of the family silver. (I told him he was being alarmist. I may be proven wrong.) But I am not going to leave.
You are the only one to whom I can admit my reasoning, because you are the only one I believe will understand. You know I have never been a superstitious woman. I can open an umbrella indoors, walk under a ladder, step on sidewalk cracks without fear of hurting our mother. My friend Celine has four cats, two of them black, and if I were afraid of them crossing my path I could never visit her. I've had thirteen people for a dinner party without mishap, and once I laughed at Thierry for his ridiculous notion that putting a loaf of bread on the table upside-down will invite bad luck.
But knowing all this, I think you will still understand when I tell you that I am worried that if I leave my house to come to New York, there will be nothing left when I return. I cannot put an ocean between myself and my home. My children are going to Switzerland and not to you because I cannot put an ocean between myself and them either. Our feet must all touch the same landmass. This is no doubt all absurd, irrational fancy, and you know how rational I have always been. But it is how I feel, and it is what will give me peace of mind.
Peace of mind is the only peace we have, now. I will take it however I can.
Do not worry about me. I am here in my house with my furniture and my silver and my family, until such time as my children leave for Geneva, and we will see this through. I have given you my reasons for staying, as ridiculous as they may be, and you may find this hard to believe, but I feel safer in my dining room than I would in New York.
I am not afraid, and it will hopefully ease your mind to know I have been taking precautions all the same. But those precautions do not include a fast steamer to New York, and every variation on "Please come home" will be met with the same answer: I am home. And I will stay here.
I am not trying to be obstinate, Julia. Please believe me. I have my reasons and they are important to me. I did not make this decision lightly. You may not wish to, but I think you understand me, for I remember when you were much given to flights of fancy too. You may share this letter if you are comfortable doing so, although I do not think it will make much sense to anyone else that I have refused to leave Paris because I am worried my house will be gone when I come back.
When the war is over, I will come visit you. I promise.
Give Abernathy my love, and James, too, when you see him.
All my love for you,
Aimee