saturday, april 1, 1944

my dearest kitty,

and yet everything is still so difficult. you do know what i mean, don't you? i long so much for him to kiss me, but that kiss is taking its own sweet time. does he still think of me as a friend? don't i mean anything more?

you and i both know that i'm strong, that i can carry most burdens alone. i've never been used to sharing my worries with anyone, and i've never clung to a mother, but i'd love to lay my head on his shoulder and just sit there quietly.

i can't, i simply can't forget that dream of peter's cheek, when everything was so good! does he have the same longing? is he just too shy to say he loves me? why does he want me near him so much? oh, why doesn't he say something?

i've got to stop, i've got to be calm. i'll try to be strong again, and if i'm patient, the rest will follow. but -- and this is the worst part -- i seem to be chasing him. i'm always the one who has to go upstairs; he never comes to me. but that's because of the rooms, and he understands why i object. oh, i'm sure he understands more than i think .

yours, anne m. fran

k