There is always a certain excitement when a yellow card is found in Box 264 at the little Wainscott Post Office. It is a sign that a package awaits behind the counter. And such a card was there late this afternoon. I handed it to the Postmistress and in return she handed me a Priority Mail envelope. What could it be? I had ordered a few things of late. Rushing home I was distracted by dogs and telephone and other mundane tasks. The package lay unopened until it was time to open it and a bottle of wine. It was a book. An inexpensive paperback. But a volume that spoke of ending or completion.
I will share it with you shortly.