1910s: Anna's heartache and worry

Dearest Alice! 

I am afraid your letter does not find me at my happiest, as Maurice has received his marching papers and has left Glimmerbrook for the time being. I have to admit that even if we both knew it was a matter of time, the news hit us both hard. We have been living in a bubble, both knowing what would come but pretending it wouldn't. But now it has and my heart is aching from the loss as acutely as if one of my limbs had been torn away from me. 

It is fortunate that I have my work, and that it keeps me busy or I'd be lost in the blackest corners of my mind. I can certainly understand the duality in what our sister is feeling, because I feel it too. I would not love Maurice if he was not the man he is, if he was not so brave and not only willing but eager to fight for his country again and return to the front and his fellow soldiers, and yet my heart breaks at the very idea that he is no longer by my side and might never be again, but I cannot think that. I cannot allow myself anything less than hopefullness or I'll perish. 

I will instead comfort myself in knowing that there was nothing that wasn't said, done or shared between us. Indeed the last few days we have almost lived as man and wife, well in some ways entirely like man and wife. Oh if mother only knew! But how could I deny him, or myself, the throws of passion when knowing that there might never be a tomorrow? I regret nothing, and if the worst happens, I will know that I for the briefest of moment had everything. Oh, Anna if what you felt for Lizzie was even a sliver of what I feel now then I apologize because I did not understand. Let no one tell you what you feel is wrong, or to be careful, for how can one be careful when one's very soul is on fire? 

Before you ask we have talked of marriage, and there is a ring on my finger. To be fair I could not have cared less about a ring that might mean nothing in the end, but Maurice did. He said he wanted there to be a ring on my finger, so that I could call him husband should I need to, and I admit we have not been careful. He even gave me the key to his house so that I can live there should I want to (it's beautiful, by the way, absolutely stunning! You'd love the art on his walls.), but I do not know how to stay there without him. It would feel too much like a lie, even though the lie is a small one. In our hearts we are already wed, though in practice we could not be as there is no one in Glimmerbrook left to wed us. Do not tell mother or father, as I have no clue what to tell them yet. I am not ready to face our parents and their questions. Not yet. 

On his last night we went out with the others together. To send him off, and celebrate our "marriage". As if not everyone here knows exactly the predicament we are in. To their benefit none of them said a word about it, but pretended along with us. It was a nice night, and yet through it all I could only wish we were not there but alone together. For every hour that passed I knew it was one less we'd spend together. But I will keep my hopes up, and wait for his letters to arrive in hopes that he will return to me. 

I am sorry. I notice now that this entire letter has been only about myself. I am happy for you, and the more Del Sol does for the war effort the happier I am. For the first time in my life, however, I feel I cannot room any other feelings than those I am wrapped up in at the moment. It will pass, I am certain, once this too becomes routine or Maurice returns. Hopefully with US in the war, it will not take as long to end. The faster this can end the better. In the meantime, tell me more about you, and the gossip from back home, as I so badly need to hear it right now. 

Your loving sister, 
Anna 

Dreaming of the future and watching the clouds:

Maurice's last night in Glimmerbrook before returning to the front:

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Whittaker Saga: the setup

An interlude: The 1940s, WWII-gameplay and the latest family tree:

1890s: Starting out in a new town