My dear Amy,
I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to write to you. I could list a myriad excuses, blame the civil unrest in city, or complain to you about the hassle and heartbreak of untangling myself from my mothers and fathers within the Church, but I can't help but think that by doing so I would imply that those things are more important to me than my friendship with you, and that isn't true. And so all I can do, I suppose, is hope you accept my apologies.
( I'm writing this from Lakeshire... )
I thought I would write to let you know I arrived back home safely and without incident. Luckily, too, as a summer storm came blowing in off the Great Sea right after my ship came to port. It's the season for tempests here; when it's not pouring and thundering, we get to broil under the sun. Quite a change, after spending so much time up north! Once upon a time I was used to this climate, and now I can't even quite imagine how I coped as a girl. Even a linen habit feels oppressively hot; I'm almost tempted to strip and walk the streets naked, but even if one disregards the danger of sun-burn, the law regrettably forecloses that choice.
( Read more... )