Spitball Army

June 11, 1943
Friday  8 p.m.

Dearest Darling:

Loving you more and more every day and every night.  How I miss you!  Please, Darling, take good care of yourself – be careful.  I love you so much and would love to be able to cuddle in your arms and have you hold me close to you.

Remember the lovely pink-flowered bush we had outside of our cottage door at Mission Beach and the seeds we gathered from it?  Well, I just finished planting some of them, and am anxious now to see what they will do.  Wouldn’t it be grand to have Calif. flowers in Minn.?  They’ll bring back a lot of pleasant honeymoon memories too.

Spent another full hard day at N.W. Hospital, cutting stencils for an anatomy and phys. final; writing letters, and stapleing [sic].  I do get a lot accomplished there and they do seem very grateful.  The more I think, though, of that Blood Center job, the more I want it – if I can only get someone to help here at home.  I still hope to set out some tomatoe plants.  We were looking all over town for a garden fork, but no luck in finding one – guess we’ll have to borrow from the neighbors.  Dad doesn’t seem to have any tools at all to work with.  Honey, won’t it be wonderful to be together again – to have our very own home and garden and I do hope – a family.  I’m praying for it – never giving up.

“To everything there is a season –
a time to be born, and a time to die –
a time to kill and a time to heal –
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn and a time to dance;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time of war and a time of peace.”
That’s what the Good Book says – how true that there is a season for all things.

‘Bye Lover
With hundreds of kisses

Love,
Bev