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136 January 21 - Sunday 3:00 P.M. My darling: Last night I stayed up til 11:00 reading and waiting for the Bensons to come home from the movies just in case there was any mail - Walter brought me #105 and a letter from Muz. I slept very fitfully and woke this morning nearly all off the bed, and with my head resting on the telephone! All day I've been feeling keyed up like the night before you got your orders. Walter didn't help any - told me of a number of Civil Affairs officers that were sent back to Ord after 6 mo. on Saipan, and are now lecturing That anything like that might even happen to you is pure wishful thinking, but it's pleasant to dream about even such a remote possibility. Muz wrote that Doug got home last Wednesday night, and she thought he looked very well. He visited just about everyone including the Hadfields’. Aunt Lucy said she sent you a check, but it had been returned. [pg 2] Muz asked me to send them a snapshot of Wendy, and I will as soon as I get this next batch printed. Bill is executive officer of a hospital in Antwerp. Wendy is on her back catching on to her toes and saying “toiy, toiy, toiy-ha.” Her feet are getting noticeably larger, and I expect it won't be long before she starts toddling about. Haven't seen Bev for the past two days - will probably stop by on my way home from town tomorrow morning. Orange juice time now. 6:30 P.M. Have just finished rereading your last six letters, and putting Wendy to bed. She is particularly cunning at meal time now. As soon as she sees me coming toward her with the dish, she opens her mouth, and then looks to see what she is getting. If I don't start feeding quickly, her fist usually lands right in the food - When she is all finished, I let her have the spoon to have the ‘lickins’ - a messy procedure, but perhaps she will get the feel of feeding herself. She tries to hold her bottle - but it is still too heavy; and she usually manages [pg 3] to squirt milk all over her face. I stopped the cup when her cold got so bad, and haven't started again. Have just finished ‘They Call it Pacific’ by Clark Lee - an AP correspondent - covers the early phases of the Pacific War, and I found it quite good. In another book I found this - “We were finding out that it is good for parents and for children to be alone now and then with one another…the man alone or the woman to sound new notes in the mysterious music of parenthood or childhood.” I find I'm reading about two and a half books each week, besides newspapers and magazines. I feel better informed than I have for a long time. I don't think I'll ever lose the urge for organized study, and every once in a while that urge pops up strongly. When we are together again, perhaps we will be able to do some studying together. What would you think of getting your PhD in Paris or perhaps at the University of London? Our living expenses would certainly be lots cheaper. Do you think we’d ever be able to resign our selves to [pg 4] a faculty life? I honestly don't know. Having students and certain faculty in would be fun, but I’d hate like hell to go tramping around to those damnable teas and bridge parties. But darling if you really want to be a professor - I'll want to be a professor's wife! Of late I've been thinking how wonderful it would be to make a down payment on a house - and have a home we could really call our own - plus some sort of conveyance for getting us and the sprouts plus inevitable pets around. Guess I'll still have just a little bit of the adventuring spirit left (that's why I suggest London or Paris) but it's fast dying. I just looked up - and saw the first star - our star darling, and I made a big wish on it. To get some supper now - then I'll spend the rest of the evening knitting on my green sweater - listening sweety as I always do. Sometimes my thoughts get so real, I almost imagine I can hear your footsteps. Won't it be wonderful when that becomes a reality. I love you dearly - Bobby
