Susan to Lucy, or
BrokenKestral to Scarlett Cash
My dear Lucy,
I do wish you were here. The three of us went to a party last night, and though at first Mum and Dad were not comfortable, and I stayed at our table, though my feet itched to dance to the music (Americans tend to use only a piano, or else an entire band, with a variety of instruments we don't always hear in England). Dad was tired. as he'd given five lectures, and the students liked it enough they asked to have him back to ask questions. He loves the enthusiasm of his students, but I've heard him say he wishes they knew a bit about pacing themselves.
Only they don't seem to, and that same enthusiasm filled the dance floor. The turns they take! There's a new type of music and dancing that involves a series of lifts, the girl's feet fully off the floor, and you would have loved it. But it did not look appealing to a tired professor, and so we sat.
But Mum's feet began to tap to the music as well, and Dad noticed. They have always loved each other well. On the first slower song, he stood up and bowed, a bow worthy of any courtier of Narnia, and Mum's face broke out into that smile—do you remember that smile? I hadn't seen it in ages, and suddenly the entire slow dinner was worth the wait.
I am pretty sure Dad had been glaring at "any young man" who looked at our table, though, for as soon as he and Mum began dancing there were three young men headed my way. I chose the one Dad would approve of the most (a solid, scholarly-looking man named George), and finally, finally I got to dance.
It felt like the air of Narnia had come into this room (though it did not smell nearly as fresh), for my feet left the floor as often as if I danced with Centaurs, and the music filled my ears and heart as if it were the pipes of Fauns. I only missed your and Peter's laughter, and Edmund's swift bow and outstretched hand.
I hope such news took you back, a moment, to our ever-home, and lightened the misery of where you are now. The coming back to it may be hard, but let the memory of the joy you were given strengthen your outlook on the present, as you always do.
All my love,
Susan