December 19th, 1971

Sunday morning, Sunday morning. I am lying on my stomach in bed. It’s almost 11:00 AM– I’ve been dozing since about 6:30 this morning. In the living room, I hear Tommy and Teri playing– and Judy occasionally scolding them. Everything is so set here– so secure. There are no major questions about life to be settled– it is quite simply Sunday morning at home. It seems like all the people I know back in D.C. are in such a frantic rush to get somewhere– to have something.

My room here is very bright and neat. Very comfortable. The walls are off-white, clean and there is a large thick oval early-American type rug on the clean polished hardwood floor. The big bookcase double bed that I’m sleeping in has bright pink and white striped sheets on them. Against the opposite wall is a chest with a stereo set on it– with speakers on either side. Next to the bed is a baby’s rocking chair with my clothes thrown across them.

I must get up and shower. Jimmie is coming home around noon. My flight back to Washington is at 3:00 this afternoon.