June
My Only Love,
I must admit that I am beginning to despair. As the days have begun to blur together, which you so astutely pointed out in your last letter, the time does not appear to be passing at a pace that resembles anything more than a snail's. Today I was perusing the news, which I know I have sworn to do at a reduced rate but I cannot bring myself to reduce my consumption as much as I probably should. Regardless, I was perusing the news and came across the disturbing revelation that our state leadership has been considering extending our confinement beyond the initial date, with a proposal of remaining in place until June. That seems, I must admit, such a very long time from now. It is impossible to imagine the toll that will take on our society, our economy and our sanity. We are privileged enough to live in a home where space is not limited and the ability to steal away for a few quiet moments on occasion is not impossible. I imagine for families with more progeny, and closer quarters, this period of isolation must feel impossible to manage.
I am fretful for what the world will look like when we emerge from all of this, as well as how I will view the world once I return to it. I am also fretful for the stability of my own employment along with the employment of so many around me. It is a distressing time we live in, and I am unsure how to navigate it. I understand our fore-bearers were asked to give up so much more. Their lives in time of war, their comforts, their sense of security. I know that the burden we are asked to bear is small in comparison, and yet I can't help but feel that the enemy they were fighting was more noble and more more tangible one, so the sacrifice felt like a duty in a way ours does not. There is nothing noble about our fight, not really. Which leads me to even more rage that our nation's leaders could have prevented a portion of this, and alleviated the strain of much more, and yet they have collectively failed. The rage eats at me as much as the strain of confinement, and there are occasions when I do not know which is worse.
As time passes, my dearest, I am grateful that if I am to be sequestered for such a long duration, I have you to share this time with. It would be nearly impossible to endure in constant and extreme isolation, and while I am certain that we will wear on one another over time, it is a luxury to have someone to spar with. In a time when it is so easy to feel alone, I find comfort in our ability to weather this storm with a small collection of those I love most. Even if our progeny continues to eat non-stop and deplete our grocery supply more rapidly than we are able to schedule replenishment orders.
Until we meet again, as I gaze across the room into. your face and wonder when our next encounter may be, I remain forever yours.
Rebecca S. Berry
I must admit that I am beginning to despair. As the days have begun to blur together, which you so astutely pointed out in your last letter, the time does not appear to be passing at a pace that resembles anything more than a snail's. Today I was perusing the news, which I know I have sworn to do at a reduced rate but I cannot bring myself to reduce my consumption as much as I probably should. Regardless, I was perusing the news and came across the disturbing revelation that our state leadership has been considering extending our confinement beyond the initial date, with a proposal of remaining in place until June. That seems, I must admit, such a very long time from now. It is impossible to imagine the toll that will take on our society, our economy and our sanity. We are privileged enough to live in a home where space is not limited and the ability to steal away for a few quiet moments on occasion is not impossible. I imagine for families with more progeny, and closer quarters, this period of isolation must feel impossible to manage.
I am fretful for what the world will look like when we emerge from all of this, as well as how I will view the world once I return to it. I am also fretful for the stability of my own employment along with the employment of so many around me. It is a distressing time we live in, and I am unsure how to navigate it. I understand our fore-bearers were asked to give up so much more. Their lives in time of war, their comforts, their sense of security. I know that the burden we are asked to bear is small in comparison, and yet I can't help but feel that the enemy they were fighting was more noble and more more tangible one, so the sacrifice felt like a duty in a way ours does not. There is nothing noble about our fight, not really. Which leads me to even more rage that our nation's leaders could have prevented a portion of this, and alleviated the strain of much more, and yet they have collectively failed. The rage eats at me as much as the strain of confinement, and there are occasions when I do not know which is worse.
As time passes, my dearest, I am grateful that if I am to be sequestered for such a long duration, I have you to share this time with. It would be nearly impossible to endure in constant and extreme isolation, and while I am certain that we will wear on one another over time, it is a luxury to have someone to spar with. In a time when it is so easy to feel alone, I find comfort in our ability to weather this storm with a small collection of those I love most. Even if our progeny continues to eat non-stop and deplete our grocery supply more rapidly than we are able to schedule replenishment orders.
Until we meet again, as I gaze across the room into. your face and wonder when our next encounter may be, I remain forever yours.
Rebecca S. Berry
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