June 30, 2012

Dearest Diary,

I feel as though I have much to share with you this evening, but have not the strength to resist my dreams at present. Instead, I should like to leave you with a letter I received this morning from my beloved sister. It reads:

"Dearest Sister,

Recently I have noticed that our Heavenly Father may be sending us subtle messages of hope so that you and I do not fall into despair. For you see, we have both encountered gentlemen who demonstrated some (if not only very little) interest in conversing with us. The first encounter that I would list is your meeting with Sir Andrew. I truly enjoyed your account on that matter! I too have had one or two momentary conversations with gentlemen who showed a possible interest in courtship.

If you will recall our lunch outing with Mamma at the establishment owned by Mr. Crisper, I made the acquaintance of a seemingly affable gentleman. Although perhaps "made the acquaintance" is not quite the appropriate phrase, for we were not properly introduced. I was not even able to ascertain the gentleman's name. However one might assume that he hailed from the northern country for he wore the emblem of a bear cub on his clothing that has been worn by others in that province.

I apologize for my digression, dear sister. This gentleman and I shared some friendly words while we were helping ourselves to some refreshments. Had I been aware of what was transpiring, I might have prepared myself to be more clever. Instead, after he inquired about my health, all I could do was answer politely and stand there grinning like a dunce. The gentleman had no other choice but to politely wish me a good day and take his leave.

This reminds me of the evening, years ago when you and I had the opportunity to meet with that talented Mr. Connick (although I am not familiar with his father, I believe he is named for him) following one of his recitals. I spent the entire time while we waited our turn deciding on a clever and dignified way of expressing that I too was a musician. When the opportunity to speak to him finally arose, my only action was to bid him hello.

Perhaps my brain's refusal to assist me in witty conversation whenever a desirable match is nearby is the main cause of my perpetual state. Alas, I must practice this skill much like I must practice the pianoforte. Perhaps I shall some day become a proficient.

Yours, etc. ..."

Her conclusion leads me only to bid you farewell myself and to return to you again on the morrow.