1-3-1944

My darling,

Just a short note before I take out of here early tomorrow morning (for a short trip and the inevitable gap in letters to you): We leave early tomorrow and after a six and a half hour flight will be in another world and a different climate and environment entirely. The change is always welcome, although that is a of a lot of water between here and there.

The money the bank notified me to pick up was twenty five dollars for Henry Willard. I wonder why they couldn’t have sent a money order? Anyway, I saw him not five minutes after I had gotten it and delivered it duly. In fact he is flying back with us tomorrow, as that is his station and he has completed his business here.

I am on a diet, which I started on Sunday to lose some of this big bay window you remarked about when I was home. It was time, anyway. I am hungry as a bear, of course, but not to the mean stage yet. It’s a tough life.

Mail has been sort of scarce from you, so I suppose that you have gotten off on that Dallas trip, but my return will be nice when I have mail to come home to.

I have exhausted my letter writing subjects lately, until I get a bit of chatter from you to give me material to write about. I still have to hear a lot about your Christmas, so this little note will come to a close my sweet, sweet girl, and all that love of mine comes with it. I could eat you up if I could only get my hands on you.

Love again my dear, Adios.

Edwin