Two weeks ago I felt becalmed. I felt that Cornelius and I had been given a holiday, everything cleared away that harassed us—so queer when the reason for this was that terrible stroke. When I lay down beside him with my hand in his, I felt we were floated on our love. Only two weeks ago! Now life has charged in, as it always will, I suppose. Not only this business about Nick, but Thanksgiving looms. But oh, how wonderful it will be to see them all—fourteen at table, fifteen if I can persuade Cornelius to invite Eben. I’m afraid he won’t, because he doesn’t want to be humiliated by his own clumsiness. And it might be dangerous. Eben tends to show off, I fear, and might talk too much.

What I must do right away is to go up to the Lovelands’ and see if one of the children would be willing to help in the kitchen. None of my grandchildren, alas, is able to take over and really help. But of course Olivia and Marianne will. Could we manage alone? The trouble is I want so much to be free to enjoy them, free to talk, and especially free to help Cornelius, for he will need help. I am rambling on with too many little things on my mind for this journal to be of much use. Can I ask John to bring Mamzelle?

If we could only really imagine each other’s lives. I am thinking of Ellen, and so many others in the village, no doubt. They brush us off as “the rich.” They never imagine that everything we have costs in responsibility, in time, and devours us. Just the houses! When I think of the time Cornelius and I spend getting things taken care of—trying to find help. I wish we could get rid of the house in Cotuit. Of course the children love it, and it has been useful as a place to give John and Sybille for their holidays. I long to get rid of possessions. Sometimes I think Old Pete is the one wise one. But when Ellen throws at me that I have never had to struggle I feel like saying, “Maybe. But I have had to learn to be capable in a hundred ways that were no pleasure or nourishment really. If I had not been rich, I might have become a good painter.” Instead, right now I had better get the silver out and see what needs polishing.