March 26, 1884
Dear Matilda,
I am absolutely delighted you have another son. I wish I had a bouncing baby boy, though I doubt I'd survive. Having Ruby was one thing, but bearing Vera nearly killed me. I'm awful sorry about the money issues. If you like, come live with us!
It's going alright in Kansas. Hank doesn't like it here anymore; he keeps talking about how he wants go somewhere else. I keep telling him if he can't keep his head out of the clouds, we'll never find the right place. I'm mean, we just got the house built. It's not very big, only six rooms, but it beats the shanty by a mile. He just gets mad at me. My marriage is not the happiest; I almost wish I married Phillip Myers, that boy from so long ago.
I remembe he used to make me laugh. We were just like you and Gerald were back then, and we'd probably wouldn't be very different. However, I married Hank so I could get out of New York. I wonder where I'd be if I chose Phil.
Enough of that moping. I'm content to be in Kansas. The town, Sherman Hill, is booming. Folks love the fertility. I got myself several yards of poplin and a new bonnet at the dress store that just opened. Eastern people flock to that town. I'm not sure how many will actually stay; you'd do better than the whole lot.
A school finally has been established, so the girls are studying all the time. I recall you stalling when we had to walk to school together, remember? You even sat in a muddle puddle -on purpose- as an excuse to go home to Mother, since you didn't have another clean dress. Mother, God rest her tired soul, almost thrashed you.
That was back when Pa and Thomas were living. I miss them terribly, as do you. I used to be jealous of Pa taking you on boat trips. He taught you everything there was to know about river piloting; you knew more than Thomas! Had you been a boy, you'd have made a fine captain. I never had the patience to listen to him like you.
I wish I was like you a lot. I want your courage, your fire, your sweetness. I'm just not as strong as you sister. I hate to admit it, but I'm still coveting you. I know it's sinful, selfish, ungrateful, has no place in this letter, but I have to let this out. You're my sister; I love you. I trust you.
I hope everything works out with the union. Say hello to the children for me. I would love to see you, as do the girls. I keep telling them stories about us when we were their age. I would love a game of poker. Please consider my offer on moving; I need the company desperately. I'll even send you money for supplies; the field is a gold mine.
Your loving sister,
Lillian Aster
P.S.: Happy Birthday Jack. Two years old already!