Achilles is sleeping on my lap, demanding pets and making it hard to write. How are you doing? Any plans this evening? We’re having dinner with friends, as I mentioned, and I must go help clean in a minute.
As the years advance I’m becoming increasingly aware of the advancing one decade since we went away. How very like my own fault it sounds that way. That I had known, alas… I wish you happiness in the coming year. Part of me wishes you didn’t care about us at all, that would make you happier, likely. But what’s the hope in that? Happy New Year, Soren, I wish you firecrackers and cheer, and a firmly-adhered to resolution if you wish. I just hope to keep writing consistently (stories, not to you, which is nearly always consistent). I love you.
With love,
Alice