Will someone find this dog-log floating in the sea? Will my mother know what happened to us?
We tried to get a message to you last night, Mom. We love you.
If I could start my life over—
There is no day. It’s all night.
We have to yell to hear each other above the wind, but what I want to do is whisper. I want to say nicer things, but there is no time. All our time is spent fighting the wind.
Last night I dreamed about Sophie, and this morning I asked Uncle Dock if Sophie knew what had happened to her parents. He said, “At some level, Sophie must know. But consciously? That’s something only Sophie can answer.”
I asked him why no one would talk about it, why they wouldn’t tell me or Brian. He said, “It’s not the time, right now. And maybe it should come from Sophie. It’s her story.”