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I have had two lovely letters from you in the last few months and I have replied to them only by a Christmas greeting. I do want to say more than that. Your letter written December 23rd has been read over many times, and has been a great comfort to me. I am still not altogether sure that a gall bladder operation3 is worth all it costs in vitality. My case was not acute, and I think I could have rubbed along by careful dieting and by avoiding any kind of emotional strain - which always has a very bad effect on such cases. But I found I could not face living the life of a semi-invalid. It is just not my nature to pussyfoot through life in that way. I would rather quit living altogether than to live guardedly and parsimoniously.
I, of course, have not regained anything like my original vitality as yet, and I am ten or twelve pounds under normal weight and so far unable to make it up. I am not quite strong enough to take a railway train and go anywhere I please (just now where I would most like to go is Red Cloud4), but I am every so much less languid than I was even three months ago and I see light and freedom ahead. How often during the days when I had to keep very quiet (especially in last August and September, when I was still in bed and the heat in New York2 was quite terrible) I thought of you and Mrs. Beecher5 and Mr. Bates6 and, Oh, so many of the old friends, some of whom are not living now. I have had a pretty busy life and I never before had much time for memory and reflection. But last summer when I was quite down and out, I had a happy reunion, in my mind and heart, with all the old places and the old friends. How much they mean in one’s life - one never knows until one has a period of enforced idleness like that.
Lovingly to you both, Willa Cather