DAWSON’S TRAVELS
Chapter Two
Dear Leah,
This is the first of many
letters to you. How are things in Chippewa Falls since I left? Are your parents
still mourning my parents? What a stupid question. Of course they are. But are
they still upset at me for leaving, instead of rebuilding like everyone
expected me to do? I wish they would understand, Leah. I couldn't stay and
rebuild. I couldn't take my father's place...I'm not him and never will be. I'm
like my Uncle Larry. I'm a wanderer. I'm meant to wander the world, and maybe
then...after I've seen what I'm meant to see...I'll return...but then again,
maybe I won't. All in all, I have to follow my heart, and my heart told me to
leave Chippewa Falls and head out for the horizon. Some may say I'm running
away from the pain of losing my parents, but that's not so. The pain follows me
wherever I go. No matter how far away from Wisconsin I am, and right now I'm
very far away. I'm in Santa Monica, California.
I got here by stowing away on
a train--not something I recommend you to do, by the way. It's quite hard and
very dangerous, but don't worry. I'm fine, as you can see. Leah, it's gorgeous
here. There's palm trees everywhere and the beach is gorgeous. The blue ocean stretches
out forever. But the best part about Santa Monica is the pier. There's a roller
coaster and tons of booths for tourists. There's this man here who rents out a
horse for people to ride, and you can ride right in the surf. It's a great
experience, Leah. If you ever come up this way, you should try it out. You'd
love it.
You'll be happy to hear that
I've made my first move at being a world famous artist. I sat on the pier,
drawing portraits for ten cents apiece. It's not much money, but it does put
food on the table and gets the name Jack Dawson out there. Mark my words, Leah,
I'm on my way.
Well, I'll let ya go now. I'll
write again soon.
Love,
Jack