Til Roses Do Us Part || ✔

September 16th 1914

My Dearest,

I was so happy when your letter arrived. But I believe I must apologise in advance, because I don't write as half as beautifully as you do.

I, aslo, must thank you for informing me about your position and wellbeing. I am glad you're alright, some weight has been lifted (not all though, since you're still away).

I've asked some ladies, whose men are also on the front lines, what to write, if the letter should only be chirpy and jolly. They suggested that I, while cheering you on and giving support, stay honest. So here's honesty.

Thing aren't great here in London. You know, we're still living, but we've seen better days. Here at home, we're getting a bit short on lard, and the shops are short on flour, too. Our Mothers are both just fine. I said Hello to mine in your name and she laughed sincerely. I visited Mary's grave the day before yesterday, to clean up a bit. Your sister was a tad bit dissapointed when she saw the last letter (or the first, shall I say) wasn't for her, so you better hurry with her letter.

As I am being dead-honest with you I'd ask you to be just as honest when writing me back. If you get injured, or if something else finds you, be sure to write about it. We love news, even if they're not pretty.

I see the time of day interests you greatly, it is 7 o'clock in the afternoon. I've eaten dinner and now I'm writing this under bad candlelight. I plan to go to the post office first thing in the morning. I've been putting money aside just so I could mail my letters with a priority. You should pray I don't starve to death because of it.

As words of encouragement I thought we could make an agreement - each evening, at 8 o'clock sharp, we shall think of each other. No matter the place, no matter our business. We will know that we're thinking of one another.

Love,
Your Dearest Rosebud.

P. S. - Make sure to greet that Kelly bloke. I'm glad you found a pal.
Kisses.