Through the Distance
(to Robert from Elizabeth)
#54
10/31/’18 Sunday – September 21
Evening – the wing chair in the living room.
Dearest of Men –
I’ve been sitting here in the candle light winding yarn for your sox – and knitting them. And the fire is blazing away so brightly and warmly, and the bronzes are shining – while the davenport opposite me looks most inviting. It is most beautiful – I have tried to make it so – for so it is that I always feel your presence the most keenly. In all beautiful things – dear Bob.
I have thought of you so much today. It always seems when I am away from you that there are many things which I have never told you (This log is fairly singing!) In so much of our married life did you bear all the burden – keeping things from bothering me, smoothing the way – always showing yourself all thoughtfulness and consideration. In their way they were wonderful months for we learned much of each other, and little Charles is a blessing that I can’t ever speak of without giving thanks to God. But I feel now as if it were my turn. You are directly facing this horrible war, beloved, and you have the inspiration of knowing that there was never cause so worthy, but there must be many things in your daily life which are annoying and difficult. I wish that I could in some way help. And I write this to tell you never to keep from writing me anything thinking – “Will Elizabeth understand? Will this bother and worry her?” Discouragement, depression, restlessness, may pass if blurted out, and if it’s any help to bad moods to tell them – why that’s what I am here for. I think I wrote you something of this when you were in Texas – but remember, darling Bobby, and I shall understand and love always . This love of mine is no changing thing, and time and place and circumstance will not affect it.
#54
10/31/’18 Sunday – September 21
Evening – the wing chair in the living room.
Dearest of Men –
I’ve been sitting here in the candle light winding yarn for your sox – and knitting them. And the fire is blazing away so brightly and warmly, and the bronzes are shining – while the davenport opposite me looks most inviting. It is most beautiful – I have tried to make it so – for so it is that I always feel your presence the most keenly. In all beautiful things – dear Bob.
I have thought of you so much today. It always seems when I am away from you that there are many things which I have never told you (This log is fairly singing!) In so much of our married life did you bear all the burden – keeping things from bothering me, smoothing the way – always showing yourself all thoughtfulness and consideration. In their way they were wonderful months for we learned much of each other, and little Charles is a blessing that I can’t ever speak of without giving thanks to God. But I feel now as if it were my turn. You are directly facing this horrible war, beloved, and you have the inspiration of knowing that there was never cause so worthy, but there must be many things in your daily life which are annoying and difficult. I wish that I could in some way help. And I write this to tell you never to keep from writing me anything thinking – “Will Elizabeth understand? Will this bother and worry her?” Discouragement, depression, restlessness, may pass if blurted out, and if it’s any help to bad moods to tell them – why that’s what I am here for. I think I wrote you something of this when you were in Texas – but remember, darling Bobby, and I shall understand and love always . This love of mine is no changing thing, and time and place and circumstance will not affect it.
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