Sunday, July 14, 1889 Again the anniversary of my birth day comes around. I can hardly realize that a year has flown since the last one. The summer is half spent and life seems to go on with me as usual, with many misgivings as to the future but (it sometimes seems to me[)] a better acceptance of what each day brings. We keep looking forward and hoping for the sale of this dear old home, the dearest place on earth to both of us, with no cause perhaps for such expectation. As far as [my?] surroundings and comforts go I never expect to be so pleasantly situated again but I would like to be free of the world, out of debt and settled in my own smaller house. I am very lame and stiff, whether from some temporary ailment or not I do not know. I only know I am more easily fatigued than I used to and less able to contend with anxieties and responsibilities. This has been a beautiful day, pretty warm but peaceful and serene. Miss Sheffield called. We had invited her and Cantine here to tea, as she is going to Kennebunkport on Tuesday but Cantines brother is coming and they were obliged to decline. I have written no letters today. I used to have so many friends to write to that I was never at a loss for some one to sit down with on Sundays, but today I can think of no one I care to write to to whom I am owing a letter. Julia Dillon and Gertrude Tremper called. Julia wants Sara to go to High Falls tomorrow.
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