Little sweetheart, it’s December 1. I’ve turned over the page on the calendar in the kitchen - it’s all paintings by French Impressionisnts - and this month’s is a group scene with a girl who looks so very much like you.
Christmas is on the way. It’ll be my first not with your parents. You and I had the most lovely Christmas with them ten years ago. It was my first Christmas with them. And I’ve been with them every year since then. All but one, out in California. One year they came here to New York and stayed at The Excelsior - that cozy little hotel on the Upper West Side by the planetarium, where my mom always stayed and your own mom came to like so much.
It’ll feel funny to not be with them this year, little sweetheart, but we can’t travel with this awful pandemic still going on. I’m shopping now for their gifts and will send them on so they have them before Christmas Day.
Sure am missing you right now. So, I’ll just quiet down a little and say our prayer. I know you’re nearer than I can imagine. With all my love forever.
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