I remember your father saying to Jeff, “Son, the only thing you should ever drink like water is water,” and, Jeff, you were leaning against the refrigerator looking at us with one eye closed, I suspect to get us in focus. You were only 15 and reeking of marijuana and liquor. There are smells I’d rather not keep in my memories, but good luck with that.

Your father smelled like lemons that time I grew suspicious—lemons—and I knew it was something you had once had in the bathroom, Becca, and so I went down to Rexall and sniffed around. Love’s Fresh Lemon—that was it. They also had Love’s Baby Soft. You had both of those products when you went away to college. I unscrewed the cap and breathed it in, and I knew. I just knew without really knowing, if that makes sense. I wish now that I could delete it all from my mind, like that old electric typewriter we had for years, where you could put in a cartridge and retype all the words that you did not want, and they were magically lifted from the page.

I remember Rudolf and how there was a big smudge, like a shadow, where his body had pressed against our bedroom wall. Even after he died, I still thought I saw him from the corner of my eye. Even now, I think I see him sometimes, large graceful movements as he tiptoes down the hall, then rests in first position, naturally graceful.

More and more, I am always there in Boston when I write to you. And not even your Boston, but mine, the one of my childhood. I’m always there on the platform, waiting for the train; I put Christmas lights in the trees, and I hear laughter from people passing. I smell the river and the warm wool of my scarf, dampened by my breath. I think my mind takes me to that place where I still have things to work on. It is possible that there can be one thing in your life that you never stop working on. My wish is that you both are in lives that provide loving and trustworthy souls who can hear your story; I hope you are able to articulate with great passion all the things I did wrong in life and have great plans for how you will go forward and do it all better. Then I will know I did a good job. I love you more than the air I breathe. Always have. These days my air comes bottled, and they charge me for it.

June 2, 2015