A year ago I wasn’t even engaged to you, but I missed you terribly. This year I miss you even more, darling. You have been my fiancée for nine months and a day; you have been consistently sweet and patient; you have been everything a fellow would want in a sweetheart. You can well imagine, dear, how much I’d like to be with you tonite to see the New Year in.
A year ago, dear, I waited until late in the evening to write you and I was miserably blue. I’m writing you earlier this year, to avoid that mood. Don’t think I wont be blue and reminiscent; I want to be both – but I am going to try to drink enough to take some of the sting off the feeling. I doubt if that will help. Between the bunch of us I think we’ll have enough to sit down and tie one on. We have the makings of a little spread – what with the Christmas packages. We’ve held on to a good bit of our stuff and now have a collection of canned lobster, crabmeat, anchovies, saltines, melba toast, olives, deviled ham etc etc, plus every assortment of sweets imaginable – except you. We have one large room available – not too warm – and we’ll probably hang around and drink, eat and sing.