Is life really supposed to be good?

Here we are, Sister, writes Helen. Harry wants me to write first, as he is too weak to push through the separating wall of neutral matter, which lies between your plane and ours. 

Tell Mamma that when Harry left his body he was not at all aware he was gone until he saw me beside him instead of the doctor―and too, he came through the dark belt in a few seconds, so was full of thoughts.

The sight of my face startled him and made him take himself to task for sleeping so soon after dinner.

Then I laughed, and something about that giggle recalled his little boy memory of me. He smiled at me, saying―

Am I really out of it at last, and is this Helen?

Sister said last summer you would be on hand when I came over here. My―but you are good to look at. I had forgotten what fine eyes you had. I remember now, and that habit of wrinkling your nose when you laughed. It was that, which opened up the door of memory, and that giggle. Well―I suppose it is up to us to renew our relationship. Put me wise to this deal.

Then he remembered Marie, and said―What will she do now, poor girl?

She is about all in anyway, and now I have slid out of the game she will be not only all in, but heartbroken besides, for she loves me. How can I help her, Helen? 

Harry stood silent a long time beside his old body. Poor devil, he muttered, as he looked. What a thin old hulk it is! The marvel is how I managed the old machine so long. Then he stretched his arms up and out and smiled at the sense of power and health he felt, and said―

Gee, Helen, is it not just great to really live?

 

After it was all over, what a beautiful time we all did have with the music as we sat together.

Harry continues his letter.

 

We stand here hand in hand, and it is good to have such a fine big sister to show me the ropes and help me to bear the separation from my own folks. You never can see or hear me when I sit among you and want to butt in on any little gabfest you are having, nor can you realise how big and strong I look.

I am rather struck on my looks.

It is a long time since I looked like a real man, and I cannot help feeling fine over it. I cheer myself up, feeling my arms and legs, and finding them hard as ever they were. What gets my goat still is how I can feel so firm and hard and material, and yet sail right through the sitting room wall or closed door. It keeps me wondering at the marvels of Nature, for of course it is as natural and customary here, as walking upstairs is with you.

This getting about game here has wireless skinned a million miles―it is so simple seemingly, and so swift, and so altogether satisfactory.

Yet I am the sub freshman in a kindergarten class when it comes to really knowing anything about this place.