Revolutionary Love

My Love,

How bittersweet it is to pick up the pen. I rejoice that we have this small thread to keep us together, but it is a very thin thread indeed. I miss you dearly, and wish you were here for the wonderful news. Our son is walking! He, on his unsteady little feet, held my hand and we walked down the lane to watch the regiments pass. Are you not the proudest papa? My heart is full to bursting as I watch him grow. His sisters too are well and are always moving, it is a fight for them to sit still. If they were to run to the farthest snow drifts of the north to the hottest islands of the south and back again, they would still have the breath to beg me for sweets after supper. At the very least they sleep throughout the night again. The steady gunfire over the past months has kept them up. But even restless nights have not slowed the pace of their chatter.

There are few moments that pass without a thought of you. I think sometimes that it’s like the old days, and I half expect to see you at the gate at the end of a long day. The girls ask after you, and love stories of our courtship when I’m in a story telling humor. I think of you most when I look over the garden. Your apple trees are still wintered, and it was a battle all my own to bring in the pumpkins without your help. My parents visit often, and bid me remember them to you.

I often reach for you in the night. Do you remember the night we walked near Moore’s Creek? I blush to even remember the things you whispered to me. By the time we returned, Father was furious. Those are the moments that play through my head when the house goes quiet.

Have you noticed how early it warmed this year? I can hardly believe it will be February next week. If you were here I would ask if it’s worth the risk to begin planting. The little ones swear to me that they’ve even seen the red of a cardinal’s wing in the trees near the house.

I finally took apart a few of our old quilts to make coats for the girls. How they giggle to see the colors hiding in the sleeves when they turn them out. I’ve been teaching them to knit, we will have stockings by the hundreds before too long. If I ever have the chance to send them along to you, you will have the best dressed minute men in the entire American army. I laugh to imagine any poor beast of burden laden down with such a parcel.

I pray with the children every night for your safety. Their fresh faces and bright eyes are a balm to my soul. Such earnest prayers from their lips supplies my heart with much hope for the future.

I suppose it would be best to save parchment for the time, it is a pretty penny here in town.

There is little more to say, I have hired a boy to help slaughter the pig come spring. It’s a massive beast from snout to flank, and will make many a pretty cut to supplyment our larder. The horse threw a shoe and it nearly hit a neighbor girl, she was shaken but contented with a little sugar for her troubles. Our son likes to play in the dirt when I take him outside, he will be a farmer like his father, I wager.

Oh my dearest, how I miss you. The girls say there are new lines across my forehead when I worry. It is only because I care so much.

Do not worry for us, if you can. We are well and eagerly await your return when this is all over. I love you.

Stay safe, God guide you.

Your devoted wife.

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My Angel,

Your letter and news of our son and daughters has saved my weary soul. Some of us men have not received news of home for months on end, we long for any comforting word. Were you able to have him baptized, or have services stopped until them preachers can find a crossing over the river? I expect that they will have to wait until the waters can fully retreat from the thaw, which will be, by the looks of it, not until the end of many a long fortnight.

My love, I encourage you to be strong, wise as a serpent and gentle as the dove you are. There is no suspicion in my heart that you are doing your best to raise our children in my absence. It cheers me to know someone as dutiful as you is nurturing and feeding our little family in every way you can. Write often, tell me everything, even the deepest cares and secrets of your heart. To me, a humble soldier in a forgotten regiment, it is the most precious thing in the world to be your confidant.

How I wish you could see where we have camped. Everything reminds me of you. The birds in the trees sing with your sweet voice, the flowers are nearly as blue as your eyes. Even the wind moving through the leaves reminds me of your willowy steps. Every night I remember when I left, wishing I could have held you closer. It is heaven to me to imagine you, standing in the doorway, welcoming me home. I pray it will be soon that we reunite, and I am allowed to retire to a quiet life on our little plot. Hope and pray for me as this war drags on. To see our little ones would be my greatest joy.

You and the children are fondly remembered by the men in camp. Most of them recall the quality of your cooking while we were last together. Truly, my dearest, you are pursuing and storing up treasures in heaven with all your work. Even among those fancy British ladies you would be a queen.

The light is fading, dearest, and I must hand my letter off to the courier. Your courage continues to inspire. Stay true, my love, and by God's grace, we will be together again.

Your loving husband.

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