Aug. 18, 1944
It's exactly 5 P. M. and I'm finished with all that I could possibly do today. I think this is a most appropriate time to write, since (and I hope so) you must be thinking of me as I write and wondering how long it will be that you'll be back in the good ole U.S., this being the day you landed in England, just one year ago. Gosh, honey, I'm all filled to overflowing with longing and desire and - -
I bought Lil a lovely pink tailored slip, which I shall give her for her birthday Aug. 20th. You might drop her a few lines to sort of congratulate her (don't, for Heaven's sake mention that I suggested it, will you).
I didn't write last night. Reason - when I got home from work I washed the floors and cleaned the living and dining rooms so that I'll be more or less free this weekend to entertain whatever guests we may have, to say nothing of taking a good rest.
The best news today, I think, is the fact that the hot spell, which had lasted 35 days (over 90) broke when it rained last night. It's warm today, but not quite as hot as it has been. Do you know, sweet, that I haven't had more than three hours a night rest for the past two weeks? Adele wakes many, many times during the night and I've marvelled many times at my ability to take it. I keep a jar of cool tea on the window sill for her to drink, cause she invariably requests a drink,
Tonight I am keeping my appointment with Dr. Lefkoe, as I told you in an earlier letter. I must say that Adele has been walking much, much better, so much so that I almost decided to call the visit to the doctor off. However (and to hell with the $5) I want an expert's opinion to satisfy "us" and that's exactly what we're going to get. Adele has gotten so tall that she must surely be over three foot now. Phil, she's got the sweetest little face you ever saw and somehow, I don't think her pictures (any of them) show her to advantage. She's cute about everything and she does and says so many things that it would take me a week to write each and every heart warming word and action.
She's an exceptionally affectionate person, (I say this after seeing many other children) and I'm positive that she'll know her daddy. For instance, she awoke last night and wanted to make sissy. Harry was in the bathroom and she didn't want to wait. (I'll bet you're wondering what this has to do with you - you'll find out). She called "Har wee" (she says it so nicely) as if to hurry him. I walked back into the room, which was pitch dark, and while we waited she pointed to your picture on the bureau (the one with me) and turned to me and said, "Mommy - Daddy".
As you also know I'm expecting Jack Nerenberg this evening, and, according to his card, received early this week, he should be here for the weekend (but you know Jack!). I'm kind of anxious to see him, especially now that I know he's in "love".
I received your letter of Aug. 11 yesterday, sweet, and know exactly where you are. The name of the town that you had struck out with the typewriter was still legible "Ipswich". I've tried to get pyrex bottles and some chocolate, but nothing doing. I stopped at the post office today to inquire if it was okay to ship the bottles (one druggist said no) and was advised in the affirmative. I'll keep trying to locate them, but if I shouldn't would you like me to get something else for the Woolfs?
Mr. Bellet complimented me on my lovely handwriting today (he ought to see my letters to you, huh?) as I wrote checks and am more or less keeping the books in order. Naturally, I take my time, and when I do, my handwriting is neat and, as he says, "lovely".
I haven't written for along time of my deep and ever present feelings for you, baby, and I would like to do so now. Rarely a day passes that I don't find myself in a deep reverie, dreaming of things we'll do together someday, of those happy delectable days we spent together during our courtship, our honeymoon, etc. I've been "dead" or just “existing” all this time and I don't like the feeling one little bit. Phil, I have high (too high, I think) hopes of seeing you in the very first months of '45, say Feb. or March, perhaps for our fourth anniversary. Hurry, hurry, hurry! I find myself getting impatient at times, but I've learned to curb that too. Let's just put it this way: I adore you, dear husband, and am most anxious to have you by my side, where you belong. Phil, darling - -