Darling, do you feel you never quite know where I am? Well I’m in the old world, or at least I seem to be … that’s where. Don’t feel so much you’ve lost me. Each day you are gaining me. This is the biggest joint project we ever undertook … to rip ourselves apart on purpose, maybe a mistake, but we must look together at the gains!… Oh I hope you are less exhausted when you get this! You NEED a hunting trip (but I know I can’t convince you, you also are pretty stubborn.) Also why not go to Hathaway and stock up on books … I buy paperbacks over here and they really save the day. T.V. is maybe too lonely alone but as I tell Linda, a book is your best friend. Honey! Bleat! Bleat! I love you with all my heart. I’m glad you told me how you felt. Sweet dreams
Anne – Button
[To Alfred Sexton]
Florence, Italy
October 6th, Sunday [1963]
Darling,
I think, today, a lot about us, pondering our relationship, wondering how WE are doing … with all our love for each other, all our longing to be together. I do love you … but why do I need to tell you? Don’t you know already? Haven’t you known for a long time?
I sometimes feel that you need reassurance about me, that you feel you do when you don’t at all. I mean as though you worry unnecessarily about my love for you. So I want to tell you how it is with me and how it is with my love for you …
I’m not feeling poetic or soulful in partic … but that is good for I want to say a plain say of love, of my love … perhaps that will be even good, putting aside the clutter of “romance” to tell you who Anne is.
Anne is your wife. It once was a new word (15 years ago) but now it is an old word (but the age gives it not only color but a truth) … For now, my dearest, I know what being a wife is. I know what loving you is. It is not a dream of roses growing in the garden, of just a hi-fi playing low, of just a darling baby in the crib, or the rosy wonderful house with the darling kitchen. All those things are dreams. No. Love for you is no dream. You are not the man of my dreams. You are my life … And even this isn’t an ideal. I have seriously, at times, thought of leaving you and have tested the thought of other men as my husband … and I made a choice, an adult choice. You are that choice. You are my mate for life. But not from romance … from truth. I am proud of you. I like to live with you. I feel love for you at the most ordinary times and the most special. I am aware that you are handsome, but it is not why I love you. The you that is really you is other than handsome. How can I explain what I mean. I mean, in a funny way, that being “your princess Anne” delights me … but worries me. For, Kayo, I am not a princess … and I’m often ugly … and I need very badly to be just me. I can’t live up to your romantic ideal of me. I worry about this at times. I have struggled to be a mother … yes, I fought obstacles for it … but I wonder if I mustn’t fight harder for you. No. Not for your constancy or adoration or faithfulness … but for the love we really share and perhaps you don’t know it. Kayo, we are old, no longer a prince or a princess … We are really rich! We want so much for the other, we have grown up together … we (us fighting the world) are a unity. This is our strength … Long ago I realized that no other person would be to me what you are.
You are my life and what I breathe you breathe and ever so. But not for romantic songs. For reality and the common daily life. All things of myself I want to share with you. I try to do. Sometimes it is hard to get through, but I always want to. Despite all my sickness, I have grown. In my growth I learned some important things. One of them is that I pick you. Not just that I need you (for I do) but that even without the need I can make a choice and the choice is you. Only with you could I share the days, the children, the evenings … I think perhaps you worry that I will change or “outgrow” you (over here or in therapy) … But that change has taken place (even if I’m not all well) and I have made the pick. It would have been a little redundant to tell you … for after all we were married. But there came a time when I picked you and knew it to be my happiness. You say you’d love me even if I were ugly. Kayo, sometimes I am ugly … age can make ugly … I will grow ugly as the years go by … And so will you. But you are who I want to grow old with. Kayo, I’m trying to become a person over here … and with your blessing … I don’t think I’m doing too well with it, but I am trying. Trying for you as well as me. (Just as you’re trying to make do without me, for me and you!) What I mean is hard to say … a testimony of love, man and wife … a life to live together. What I mean, as can’t put properly is that you must get into bed, pat my side and say “Yup. Anne. We are doing it together, getting strong together, making the trip, both for my travelogues and your strength.” My strength comes only from the knowledge of our deep love and so does yours. We never had this before. We have come through the Navy, three major deaths, growth and my sickness. We have made it, stronger than ever in our love. Without this I would give up the trip. It actually is not a happy trip, Kayo … yes, full of new sights, but I am at loose ends, Sandy is difficult, I can tell no one … Still, I have always your confidence in me. That is the thing that drives me to stay. How can I say it and make sense? I will never leave you, not from a lack of choice, but from a decision. I want to become MORE than Princess Anne (much as I want to be her) … I want to become a woman who lives side by side with Kayo. Not a princess, not a queen, but a friend who fell in love with you. For that is the way it happens. You can’t know how strong my feelings are! Let us grow to meet this challenge! Let me not forsake it from weakness and longing. The trip itself is nothing—only your attitude toward it makes something. Together (tho apart) I want this for us … I haven’t made a word of sense, I’m afraid. I’m telling you what I tell myself, I must learn to be a woman, not a child. Yes, I’m your princess and want to have you say it … also your dearest friend, your companion, your mistress, your mother. I’m me. Anne, alone and homesick but with a great ideal about us. forever.
Your Wife, Anne
[To the Sexton Family]
[Rome]
Monday October 14th [1963]
Dearest Homefolks,
We had a “mixed” day yesterday … starting with the most marvelous, the pope at noon on Sunday … We stood with the crowds outside St. Peter’s until “The Papa’s” window shutter was opened and they put a red carpet on the window sill. Then he appears at the window, just a white spot but the crowd cheers “Papa!” … (me too) and over a loudspeaker he speaks (or prays) in Latin and everyone responds, the crowd speaks as one … then everyone kneels, right in a huge square. I was holding onto my rosary and thus it was blessed. Quite something and moving to me (tho perhaps not so much for Sandy) … The size of the crowd and the total effect of love and awe and … well, it was something! Everyone waves and cheers and then he blesses everyone again and spreads his arms wide. I was waving too! PAPA! PAPA!
Then we drove to beach … water was warm and I did really swim. […] Then back to desk to ask Guido […] if we have time to get to sound and light thing going on at forum. We go, all in rush … Forum all dark with strange lights and music. Creepy, mystical wondrous, transplanted back in time … Never! Never thought it could be so good. Making you want to cry. We also walked into the Colluseum (sp?) at night with blue lights on it here and there. It was almost empty. I felt like a Christian martyr or something (mostly something) … I haven’t space to describe … It was haunting … the forum too … I sat frozen to seat, clutching new gloves that are now lost, not even thinking to smoke or hardly breathe. I touched pebbles on the Col. and wanted to pick up and send home to you in a box. Imagine! I mean, really …! During the sound and light they narrate history with sound effects and different lights going on and off. It sounds phony but isn’t at all. First of all it can hardly be phony in that place, decaying around you, but so much preserved, so much kept, so many hundreds of years and of kingdoms and the fall of kingdoms, the beginning of the Church (as it’s called) … the beginning of The Eternal City (as it’s called) … and the death of Caesar and of so much …
After Col where we wandering for about half hour we made our way home quite sedately, being filled with wonder etc. Now please, get ready … here comes the clincher (tho not the final) on our misadventures. And please, Kayo, don’t go climbing the walls with worry. We are handling things well. Not that I don’t need you. My darling, I need you in order to be happy, not just in order to “fix” everything … we are driving along and CRASH. Accident. Bloo Jool and Bus. Big bus. No one hurt (I scraped my knee as usual that’s all that happens to me). Sandy was driving so I can’t swear to the parties … was looking other way. But crash it is and suddenly there are 50 Italians around car, all talking at once, we are out talking at once. Bus Driver is shouting, no police (no, no, don’t call the police, some people who can speak Eng tell us. No police and you’re in trouble and cause big trouble for yourselves by holding up traffic. No police unless there is blood!) I still demand police but no action. Scraped knee does not oblige and give forth any blood even tho I pinch it a little and try it out … no blood so no police. Great arguments and etc. and everyone on our side. All the Italians hate the Busses anyhow cuz they take up so much room and are hogging the streets. Bus driver very noncommittal and says we will have to move. This goes on for one hour, meanwhile traffic backing up all through Rome and everyone getting out of cars to come and join in the big interesting discussion … and try out their English. Several witnesses say not to worry, it is bus’s fault. Bus coming from left on blinking yellow light, we on straight long busy street proceeding on it. Hit in middle. I don’t know. I believe Sandy and like Italians now and HATE bus. But still no police (they hiding I think) … god knows what. They don’t come despite a terrific traffic snarl caused by the fact we refuse to back up from middle of bus and bus can’t move or it will drag us with it! Jumping Catfish! All this and the Forum too! Finally we agree, in all sorts of languages to follow bus to its station so poor people on bus can get there (we have been told a terrible crime to hold up public transportation, etc.) After all, just a few days ago they had a communist riot a few streets down and we thought we had not better stay over [illegible]. So ten men pull out front left fender (squashed completely) so it won’t rub tire. Another man (cute) gave us the bumper guard that was knocked off … we kicked aside broken glass from (headlight gone) and followed bus. At stop, last stop, the same thing happened. Driver no help. No one help. No police anywhere and no interest in them. Get Bus no. Gather huge crowd, all people from bus came to join in by now, and anyone else walking around. Found quite a few half english speaking men who were only too glad and off we went for another hour of talk. It was funny, looking back on it. Anyhow ended up with nothing except finally info that a policeman was riding the Bus and he had told driver it was our fault … (it wasn’t) … Finally home, sad and tired, to sleep after 2 P.M. Today told Guido our troubles and he suggested what we were going to do anyhow … go to insurance rep here. So did. So we have 50 deductible and that’s it. Doubt Bus will ever pay. Insurance man says it takes 5 years in court to prove Bus is wrong. He shrugs and says “there was no blood” … (I love the blood talk, but pinching knee did not prove effective) … Insurance man drives us to a garage that “says” in Italian they’ll make it good as new by Sat. It will cost something like 160 bucks (insurance Co. we think pays all but 50 … THEY BETTER OR ELSE I’LL GO TO THE TOP TOP MAN) … The hood in kind of a mess … it never works too well in VW so hope they can fix. Horn is out too. Only thing mechanic understood was when I said “no Beep Beep”. That he knew. In Italy there are lots of Beep Beeps.
End of Saga. Have a new cold. But letters letters letters came today right at Texas [their Pensione] as well as some at Am Ex where I have to stand one hour in line to get mail … Gosh, letters! Kayo, my husband, your answer to my princess versus wife was a true and wonderful thing for me. I am both. But most of all I’m YOURS. That’s the truth and that you must remember. You must try to keep it in mind, always. Everywhere the house must echo this statement!
Joy Sexton! You went to the library yourself! Gee whiz, am I happy! Jumping jampots and all that! I can’t tell you how happy this makes me. Now you will be free in a way you have never been free. I mean now you can go to the library and find a friend anytime. It is my happiest time almost, the time when I go to the library. Although the Newton Lower Falls branch doesn’t have enough books that I am interested in, still, even there I usually end up taking out three or four books. Of course I might be a little bit silly about books, seeing as I try to write them myself. But long before I ever thought I would write one or even try to write one … long ago, when I was your age, I loved most to go to the library alone. To me it is one of the most important steps in growing up. JUST as special, I think, as getting breasts and all that kind of thing.
Linda, I mean to write you a letter of special encouragement about Sara Crewe. But I may never get the time. My darling, you do know how much I wish I could be there. When you sing “Emily You’re Named For My Mother,” just think a thought for me … although I’m surely not dead, just gone until Christmas time. But still, I love that song. Not only my love for you, my love for Mrs. Boylan but even my love for my mother (who is really dead) comes to me when I hear you sing. So, you see, it makes me cry even tho it is a happy proud kind of cry!
[…] I have often thought I’d never last over here this long so feel pretty proud of the date these days. The hardest date will be Nov 2 and 3. If I can last through that I’ve made it. […]
My weekly letter to Martin is missing this week, so must get to it. I have written him once a week … and that goes well. Important to remember that coming over here is not end of therapy (were you thinking it would be Kayo? I will write you more about this when I have time, but meanwhile, think on that.
If so, I understand, better, your motivation for wanting me to come, but want to say that you will be awfully disappointed when it doesn’t work out. I am in therapy as much for your (our) sake as you, were for mine (our))) … Please give my love to Peggy and John. No time to write them but assume you fill them in. Thanks for forwarding Annie’s letter full of pictures. She is a dear. Maxine’s letter today is happy happy. She is my most dear of friends. I could go on writing forever but must go down and take part in cocktail time and Sandy urges me to go to sleep early to take care of cold … Dearest Kayo, you’re in my pocket like I used to put “Kitty” in your shirt pocket. I love you always and each minute … Oh Love to Linda. Oh love to Joy. Oh send a picture of Clover. Oh kiss for all
love, Mom – Anne – Button
[To Alfred Sexton]
[Rome]
Friday October 18th [1963]
Dearest Kayo,
This is a very serious and very short letter. I just don’t think I can make it over here. God knows I’ve tried. Tomorrow we leave for Naples … by train (car not fixed yet but will be mon or tues) … We will leave most of our luggage here and then come back mon or tues (depends on the weather) … I don’t know if it will make you happy or unhappy to tell you that I am considering driving from Rome to Paris and home. And I don’t know for sure if I will. There will be no time for you to write me back in any event of any decision. So I’m on my own.
My darling, on my own it is not so good. I mean seriously that you are the one I miss. But it is not just for you that I would come home. It is for my sanity. I too had the thought that if I left Martin I’d get over the silly dependence upon him. And I have. Don’t miss him a bit … only miss you. However I am just not well. Let’s face it. Help me face it! Will I never be well. I ask myself … But, honey, I’m not yet. When I don’t know. I promise to try awfully hard to get well. But wife, princess, button … whoever she is … hasn’t made the grade yet. (Oh Kayo, I know, I know how you are feeling as you read this … so unhappy … But Martin said it wasn’t even very well for me to leave you for this length of time … and perhaps not. I think not. But more, I know that our marriage, our understanding and our love have profited. I know this.
Need I tell you that I
am very depressed about my failure “to make it”. Need I tell you that I feel I am coming home in defeat? Need I tell you all this? Do you know how I feel right now? Throwing it all up … not on a whim, but because it is, has been, increases, gets worse. That if I don’t come home I’ll be done for. Can you understand me? Yes. Yes. I know you can. But I wanted to give you something precious … and now I return, not in a state of glory but a state of despair.
Some princess! Some wife! Some button! Oh! Some silken gown!… I have done a lot a thinking about myself and about us. I feel very good about us. Except that I try so desperately to live up to your idealistic view of me. I try, so often, to pretend I’m not sick or something … Kayo, something has got to give. Your sense and need of perfection … mine too … they are getting in the way. Darling, I need therapy … I don’t care if it’s Martin or who it is. I have got to start getting well. This wasn’t and hasn’t been the way.
If you want me to need you (and I always will for I very simply love you) then this time … know my need is your understanding if I do come home. Right now I need quiet. I need even (god forbid) Westwood [Lodge]. I need to lie down and sleep and see none … I need our house and our quiet ways. The beach is nice, the monuments are nice … I have weathered every robbery and car smash … But myself I cannot weather. She came along. She needs help … love, she already has. The arduous work of therapy god damn it (I wanted to stop myself … you know, it is why I came) … But without your total support I cannot do it … Oh the awfulness of it, to come home with no flags flying, flags dragging like a sick dog’s tail. But there you have it.