I hope that you were not fired before I could even congratulate you on getting to London safely. Or ask you how you're faring now that it's been a few days of probably long nights with dark days. One of my men's family members wrote and said that London was bombed a day after you wrote to me. I hope that you're alright and that you were safe. You were probably busy that night, if not still busy. I hope you know that Blake would be proud of you. He spoke of his family only as if all of you were perfect in his eyes. I know that Blake would be bragging to every man here saying that his sister was single-handedly saving the lives of the people of London. And though he can't write to you, I know that he would've written to you with only words that showed just how proud you made him.
I know almost nothing of how to make women speak, but I hope that the other women in your lodging are at least friendly to you and if not, they're at least civil enough to you that you feel welcome. I'm glad that you have Sophia, she must feel a bit like the comfort of home coming from a small town to a big city that's easy to get lost in. Though, once you figure out London, it's a city that is easily navigated. I cannot say how easy it is to navigate through the streets of London after a bombing, but from what I remember on the one leave I had, it was easy to pick out the landmarks of pubs that I've walked by since I was young. If I ever get away from this barren land and back home, I'll show you all the tricks of knowing the way to never get lost again in London.
And if you have no one else, it seems as if you have a friend in Sophia, who seems to be a girl who's been through too much too soon. Though, it seems as if I'm surrounded by men similar to her constantly. Her father seems a little harsh on someone who has lost someone so dear. It shows just how war affects everyone differently. Her father seems to be one of the few who that believe, if you push away reality, it may never bring harm to you or your family. He doesn't seem to understand that war takes from every one, no matter what your stance is on it. He is one of the few that shows that sometimes you don't know how good your family life is until you find someone who's had it worse. As for Sophia, she should take as long as she needs to grieve, no one can tell her when to stop and when grieving should stop.
You'll get the hang of the hospital soon. It seems like it's too big and too full of chaos for you to get the rhythm of it, but you will get to understand it. It may take more than a few days, you may still feel lost when you receive this letter, but you will get used to it. It's the same as someone going into the trenches. It's big and it's loud a lot of the time, it seems like you'll never get the hang of which way to go in and to go out, but it gets easier. I promise you, Mary, it gets easier. And I'll take a weeping girl over a weeping soldier any day. Especially since the weeping girl has gotten me through more than she should need to. And for the fact that the weeping girl is the only person who seems to be able to bring me back from the worst days.
As for what we are, if I may be so bold, your photo seems to be the last thing I look at before I go anywhere or go to sleep. I believe that your face is the last face I want to see before I may die. And if I do survive, I'd rather see you for the rest of my life than anyone else. And since, I'm being bold, your letters seem to be the highlight of my day; so much so that my men seem to know exactly when your letters have arrived since I'll get a smile on my face that I seemingly can't wipe off my face for the rest of the day. Truthfully, I don't mind. Tease me all they want, your letters have become my lifeline in these trenches and your photo has become the beacon of hope that I need to get through even the worst of days.
What I'm saying is I've been fighting to come home to you, for you, for longer than I think even I realized. And though, I wish we met for different reasons, I don't regret meeting you, I believe I'll never regret meeting you. I just wish I let Blake talk me into writing to you so that we may have met under happier times. I don't regret writing to you, how can I be when you've become so important to me. I don't believe I'll ever regret writing to you, nor will I ever tire of it. You've brought comfort to me when I believed that all comfort was lost. I never want to let you go, Mary Blake. You've completely enamored me and I am completely yours. And I hope that you feel the same.
