To My Dearest,
They said my last letter was caught in a postal blockade, and it will never arrive. So I suppose I have to write another one. Not like that's any trouble.
I am so glad that your Christmas at least somewhat warmed these hard and cold times. I know it's probably not like that but I'm still hopeful, so I ask - has the fight finally stopped? Do you see the end nearing to this war?
Our Christmas was fine. We did everything we usually do on Christmas, although the Christmas dinner wasn't really posh, to say the least. It was fun, yet it was painfully obvious you were missing.
We got your letter on New Years Eve, and your sister just couldn't hold in her joy. She started crying at the sight of the buttons, saying they're perfect for the dress she's currently sewing. She said thank you, with a heartly sigh, and hugged me, as if I were you. As if, to her, I was the closest she could get to you.
And I must thank you for the chocolates, they surely fill my carrying needs.
I was delivering some charity packages to Oxford with Mary (Hemmings) the other day. We drove over that one bridge where you asked for my hand. That made me smile. Sadly that beautiful old tree that stood high near it didn't make the winter. It was rotten and I suppose a gust of wind made it break in half.
I'm a bit sick at the moment, nothing serious, it's only a seasonal cold. My mother said I work too much for a lady. Well, mother, who else can work now that all the men are gone?
Ladies are just as able as men.
With Love,
Your Dearest.
P. S. Do you think of me at 8 o'clock?
YOU ARE READING
Til Roses Do Us Part || ✔
Historical Fiction1914 The Great War had just begun and two British newlyweds exchange letters as the conflict escalates on the Western front; one of them on land, the other in the trenches. They share tenderness, compassion and comfort. [an epistolary novel]
