Writing Prompt No. 104
January 15th, 1878
To my dear Father,
I hope this letter reaches you in time. I know Mother has been unwell and for her the end of her life is near. I wish I could be there with you both, to hold a hand each, to support you.
The storm here has brought terrible weather and wrecked our farm in its wake. I am unable to leave this place. We can see the clouds gather on the horizon in a dense, black thickness which is impossible to escape from. They gather and move with such speed across the land we take shelter in the basement until it passes. We are not safe above ground when it’s close.
There are no trees here and the grass is short. Flowers are few and far between. There’s a harsh and bleak beauty here. And then when the sun comes there is nothing to shade us from the heat. It browns and dries the earth until nothing further will grow.
Thomas has spent five long years away trying to bring more people here to work this land and make it home. Edie and John have grown so much now they do not remember him. There is a tiredness that fills my body every day but every day I must work and labour.
The horses are ready to be sold. We have five that we’re hopeful will sell for a good price. Edie is overcome with sadness as she has made each one a dear friend.
I hope that one day soon you will meet your grandchildren. You hold a special place in their hearts.
Yours, with love, Lizzie
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