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My little flower

Everytime I try to write a letter, I come short with words. It’s not that I don’t know what to say, I have a lot i need to amend to you, the problem is I don’t know where to start or how to start. So I decided to just write a free flowing message, and not call it a letter. It’s been a while since I last wrote to you, I did visit the cemetery to see mom, there were a lot of flowers on her grave, so I’m guessing that people are still paying respect to her, it’s amazing how we felt her absence whereas so many knew her presence. She did things for the greater good, she was a good woman. Sometimes I have this panging fear, like I am becoming soft like her and people can see that. How rude of me, I never even asked how the war was, I know that it has changed you, no one comes back home the same way as they left, a part of you, you tend to lose on the battlefield. I need to also give you something aunt Rosa left for you on her will, nothing much, but I know it’s going to mean a lot to you. I’d forgotten that i can be myself with you, even if I’m writing a letter,,, still.you gave me a home and a family, even though we lost our little Hope, i still believe that we find healing in each other. I pray for you, you know,,,like I do when you’re at home, except I cry a lot because of the longing. Please come home to me John, my little flour,,,
Marissa, your loving wife.

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