GRACELAND

Dear C--

The Mississippi Delta was shining like a national guitar. I was following the river down the highway through the cradle of the Civil War. I was going to Graceland which is in Memphis, Tennessee. There seemed to be a great number of people headed there: poorboys, pilgrims, and families. I felt good to be headed there with my traveling companion, Harper. Nine years old and the child of my first marriage. It felt good to be headed to a place named Graceland.

I thought of her as I drove. Harper's mother. She stopped by the other day. She wanted to tell me she was gone. She said it as if I didn't know it, as if I hadn't been sleeping alone in our bed. Seeing her reminded me how I miss the little things; like watching her wipe her hair from her forehead. She said something about how losing love is like a window to your heart. Everyone could see all the shit inside. I was difficult to be around. Blowing out a lot of cold wind.

But there I was. Going to Graceland. And it felt good to come back to that thought. I was headed to a place named Graceland and so were a lot of other people. It felt good. I was on my way and soon I would be there. I can't really explain it.

Love,

Paul Simon