I regrettably note the hour this evening as I anticipate such an early rise tomorrow. We are to fetch a carriage in no less than four hours and yet I have not spent a single moment in my dreams. That is a typical behaviour of mine when it is the eve of an highly anticipated event. I can rarely recall an Advent when I have not pined late into the morning hours awaiting Father Christmas. This evening I do so at the joy of seeing my Grandmother on the morrow. I miss her so and eagerly desire to be in her company. I wish I could be so more often. She is the sweetest of grandmothers one is ever to know, and yet I have not had the proximity to her that I have desired since my youth. When I was a child, she was a day's ride to the west. And as a maiden, she is even more distantly to my north. I envy those of my cousins who have had her company time and again and are able to visit her with greater frequency than I. For a brief moment, I too will have that blessing, on the morrow.
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