I revived a letter detailing where to go for my nurse training. I am ecstatic to help with the war effort. I must confess I am anxious to see our men in such a state.
No. Not men. Boys.
That's what they are really. You as well. Boys taken from your homes to fight a war with no clear ending in sight. I pity them. I pity you. Your heart is to big and beautiful to be in such an awful place.
Désolé Mon Soleil. I should be encouraging you to keep fighting, be brave, but I am so scared of what the future holds. I try to contain my fears, but it's all for naught. My father wasn't the same after the other war. He stares into an abyss of horrid memories, his eyes glossed with the horrors of his past. I wouldn't wish that on my worse enemy. And I have a sinking feeling this war is worse.
Enough with the anxiety's. I pray you aren't near any danger.
I was walking around the hills near home. The peony's are gone, but I picked some when I learned you were leaving. I dried them. This one is for you. See it as my heart. Yours forever.
Je t'attends Mon Soleil, Gisèle
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