Description
90 Sunday Dec. 10 - 9:00 P.M. My dearest darling: I'm so ashamed, tired and lost. Marge Mulligan just came over to get something for Pat who is down with a tonsil infection. Dr. Lusiguan has given him sulfa pills - poor little guy. Marge started talking to me about you, and I broke down - just couldn't help it - am so worried - still no mail from you, and I've been trying to keep myself together all day. To make matters worse - while we were talking, my cigarette burned two big holes in the armchair… Just couldn't sleep last night - and Wendy and I got up real early and went down to the P.O. We waited til 11:00 but it didn't do any good - your last letter was written on the 29th - that's almost two weeks ago. Went to the drugstore to get a paper, and bottle of sherry - sure must have looked forlorn because the druggist asked if I was 21 - I was taken back and hesitated, and he looked dubious when I said I was 23 - then I laughed and told him I had a daughter outside in her buggy - he laughed then too. Came home and spent the day sewing on Wendy's pinafore and clipping a bunch of old [pg 2] magazines for you that Bev brought up. Have been in sort of a daze all day - feel as if I wasn't really alive - just sort of here - it's a horrible feeling. I feel as if I don't want to go on living without you, but I want to see you so badly, I will and then there is Wendy, I wouldn't ever want to do anything to hurt her or you. Darling, my love does hurt - sharp and deep til it feels unbearable - it's a pain nothing will cure til you come back to me. Perhaps I sound melodramatic and foolish - I'm not - just all gone inside. Something must surely bring you home to me soon - it's got to. Bobby
