I hope you are well in your new home. Everything is much the same here, though new people have already moved into your house. But they keep much to themselves, for all they're very polite and friendly when you run into them in the street.
It isn't the same without you here, though. I keep catching myself longing to run across and let myself into your house, and see your smile.
Our new neighbours aren't the only new faces in town though. There's quite a few other young people passing through, and occasionally one or the other of them has stopped to stay awhile. I remember when we were that carefree; sharing an apartment and drifting from one entertainment to the next. There is one girl in particular who often springs to mind. She rather reminds me of you, actually. She's quite charming, always laughing and skipping about. There's always a sparkle in her eye and a certain sheen to her long, brown hair. I think you would have quite liked her.
Don't forget not to be lonely, and to write to me Caitlin. I long to hear from you.
All my love, Vera.
Vera signed the letter with a flourish, and quickly re-read it, sighing softly.
"I wish you wouldn't write to them," William said from an armchair on the other side of the room, their son in his arms.
"I'm not writing to them, I'm writing to her," Vera pointed out and carefully folded the paper into an envelope.
"You better think twice before you try and persuade me not to write to Caitlin, William Killick," she huffed, and walked over to put a hand on his shoulder and stoke the baby's hair. "Not Caitlin."
William glanced up at her, but quickly glanced away again with a frown.
"She was dearest to me when you were gone and too far away to be a comfort for me. I must at least try to write her."
She smiled a little when he shrugged, and reached up to clasp her hand.
"If you must," he grumbled, and she leaned down to kiss him cheerfully as she slipped the envelope into her pocket to post later.