August 26, 1944

ROCKPORT, MASSACHUSETTS

Oh, Rita,

Can you believe it? France. It’s as if Robert did it all by himself, I swear. I feel him everywhere. His grace and his strength. His almighty altruism. It’s as if he WILLED them to win. The tide is surely turning now. I can’t wait to talk to him about all of this. I hope he’ll remember it. I hope they tell him, blow by blow, what happened.

The bells are ringing, only they aren’t mourning bells!

Levi and I fairly ran into town with the children to spend the day on the beaches stopping by all sorts of impromptu picnics. There’s nothing but smiles and tears today. So many mothers and sisters and lovers full of hope now. And pride. Flags everywhere, like it’s the Fourth of July all over again!

We lit sparklers tonight. Just the four of us, and we sat and looked at the moon.

“I miss Daddy,” said Robbie.

My throat closed. I couldn’t speak. “Soon, Robbie...so soon he’ll come home. And when he does, the whole world will be thankful.”

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” said Levi. And he did.

I didn’t watch him go, and the children didn’t whine. We snuggled there, the three of us on our back porch, and lit more sparklers.

All I could think about was Sal.

And Toby. And Robert. And you and Roylene. How we find love in the strangest places. And how it never plays by the rules if it’s right.

Did I ever tell you I spent a whole year in France? It bothered me to no end when it was occupied. How can you occupy anything so free, so brazen and bold. How do you take over a people so in love with life?

The answer is, you can’t.

I’m thinking of your boys, Rita. I’m thinking of Sal ushering the lost souls into the gates of heaven. And of Toby, who is celebrating just as we are at this very moment.

They are fireflies in my eyes.

In hopes of peace,

Glory

P.S. I love being a woman. A woman among amazing women. Women who understand just how much we need one another.

P.P.S. In that spirit, I leave you with thoughts of my mother’s favorite song. Do you know the singer Billie Holiday? My mother traveled down to New York to see her sing in nightclubs. Once she brought back a recording of “It’s Like Reaching for the Moon” and she sang it so much we all committed it to memory. I think she felt it defined her relationship with my father. I think it defines this beautiful day!