July 26, 1899
Dear Mother,
I am not sure if you expected
another letter, but the disease is progressing far slower than I thought it
would, giving me strength to write. In the week that has passed, I have spent a
lot of time thinking. I have considered the months I have spent on the farm,
the fruitless attempts of finding father, and my own mortality. Would I want to
die here alone, without you or brother or father? What is the point of coming
to this land that has taken more than it has given? It is with these thoughts
that I came to a conclusion at the end of the week. I have decided to come
home, so that I may at least see you before I pass. Already I have purchased a
first-class ticket on a steamer bound for Genova, a trip that will be much more
comfortable than my trip here. Tomorrow I will submit my resignation to the
boss take the train ride back to New York. The gears are in motion, the sails
have been raised. It’s time for the journey home. I will write to you once more
when I arrive at New York.
Take care,
Alberto
No comments:
Post a Comment