I miss you, my darling, as I always do. I can almost feel you beside me as I write this letter, and I can smell the scent of wildflowers that always reminds me of you. But at this moment, these things no longer give me pleasure. Your visits have been less and less frequent, and I feel sometimes as if the greatest part of who I am is slowly slipping away. I am trying to hold on, though. At night when I am alone, I call for you, and whenever my ache seems to be the greatest, you still seem to find a way to return to me.