Serenity Cove Beach, Saturday Morning
Hawkeye had a chair, an umbrella and a cooler. He was set until lunch time. He readjusted his arm to keep the paper he was writing on from flying away.
Dear Dad,
I've been here in Fandom for almost two months now and I think I'm finally settling in. The finally probably wasn't necessary, because I've felt settled in ever since I got here and could prove to myself that this place wasn't a figment of my imagination.
Most of the people I used to know have moved away, but there are still a few friendly faces. You remember Zoe Washburn, my boss the last time I was here. She's still my boss, but she goes by the name of Winchester now and has a daughter and two step-sons. The last time I saw her, the guy she ended up marrying had only started bringing her lunch every day. That's nothing compared one of my old students, Anakin.
He has a whole family built up around him now. I'll save you the details or I'll be rehashing one of the arguments about Fandom's quirky little habits we used to have. My strongest memory of Anakin is as a brooding teenager. He still broods, but he's a teacher now and his hairstyle is a step up from what it used to be.
There are a few other people who haven't changed as much. They've done some renovations on the island and the school too.
I'll be honest with you, Dad. I'm dancing around the reason I started writing to you. I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever be able to stay in the one place without feeling closed in. In Korea the only choice I had was between the 4077th or a prison cell, and you know me, Dad, I look terrible in prison stripes. It's been years since then and all I've done is bounced between home, here and Boston. I knew army boots gave you itchy feet, but I didn't realize the symptoms would last this long.
Coming here is only a summer vacation. I can't let the clinic and fish market fall to pieces without me for too long. I hope summer is long enough to get this itchiness out of my system so I can come home and not resent every minute of it.
If it's not, I hear Iowa is nice in the Fall.
Give my best to everyone.
Your son,
Hawkeye
[OOC: Could well be open if you're silly enough to be awake at this hour.]
Dear Dad,
I've been here in Fandom for almost two months now and I think I'm finally settling in. The finally probably wasn't necessary, because I've felt settled in ever since I got here and could prove to myself that this place wasn't a figment of my imagination.
Most of the people I used to know have moved away, but there are still a few friendly faces. You remember Zoe Washburn, my boss the last time I was here. She's still my boss, but she goes by the name of Winchester now and has a daughter and two step-sons. The last time I saw her, the guy she ended up marrying had only started bringing her lunch every day. That's nothing compared one of my old students, Anakin.
He has a whole family built up around him now. I'll save you the details or I'll be rehashing one of the arguments about Fandom's quirky little habits we used to have. My strongest memory of Anakin is as a brooding teenager. He still broods, but he's a teacher now and his hairstyle is a step up from what it used to be.
There are a few other people who haven't changed as much. They've done some renovations on the island and the school too.
I'll be honest with you, Dad. I'm dancing around the reason I started writing to you. I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever be able to stay in the one place without feeling closed in. In Korea the only choice I had was between the 4077th or a prison cell, and you know me, Dad, I look terrible in prison stripes. It's been years since then and all I've done is bounced between home, here and Boston. I knew army boots gave you itchy feet, but I didn't realize the symptoms would last this long.
Coming here is only a summer vacation. I can't let the clinic and fish market fall to pieces without me for too long. I hope summer is long enough to get this itchiness out of my system so I can come home and not resent every minute of it.
If it's not, I hear Iowa is nice in the Fall.
Give my best to everyone.
Your son,
Hawkeye
[OOC: Could well be open if you're silly enough to be awake at this hour.]