Darling Dot,

I hope you’ll excuse me for not writing a long letter tonight. After I got home from Prose Workshop Mom and I had a long discussion on the situation.

Of course when she mentioned the fact that Pop could get into a VA Hospital, Pop threw up his hands and dropped his head in that pathetic gesture he has which has become his reaction to all situations which threaten the security of the poor little world into which he has withdrawn. He hasn’t eaten any since you were here, but tonight Guy Sharp told Mom something, which, along with the earlier mention of the veterans’ hospital, seems to have at least temporarily scared Pop into doing something for his own recovery.

I wish we were able to help Pop crack that little shell of a world.

I’d hoped that the ten-pager I just wrote to Burke had unburdened most of my thoughts on the matter, but all it seemed to do was unify or focus them. I hope that we can get Pop’s permission to sell the car, but I fear the same reaction if we should mention it.

I told Burke all about the situation here, as far as I could see it. I think he should know what’s going on.

Just in case you are interested (I think you are), I got an A on that “Old Charleston” paper. (Thank you for helping me.) It was too long to read in class, though. Also had several very nice comments about you! Miss Talmage said she enjoyed having a visitor who, as you did, pays attention. She thanked me for bringing you and felt you had enjoyed the class. She said you had an interestingly pretty face, and a pleasant smile and manner, and that we seemed to her to be well-suited. See, other people notice it, too.

Also, in case you’re interested, I love you very much, Dot.

I can only imagine that Dot’s brief visit to the Peterson household must have felt like an early spring had come into that cold, gloomy place.

There are no letters tomorrow, but I’ll take another quick peek at some older letters to compare where these kids were a few months back.