February 4th, 1995

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February 4th, 1995

Dear Bucky,

It's been 50 years without you, my love. I miss you so much. More than you could ever possibly know. I say this in every letter but you can't necessarily complain. Half a century— that's how long it's been. I made you a promise, James Buchanan. I kept it and I'm still waiting for my wedding day. I'd rather it be 50 years late, rather it never happen.

       Good God, I miss you. I still don't understand how one person could have changed my life so much. James Elliot is planning on moving to Manhattan soon with his wife, Belle, their son, Steve and their daughter, Charlotte. I told him that Queens wasn't any good and managed to convince him not to move there. He honestly should have just taken my advice and just stayed here in Brooklyn.

       It also seems the tumor hasn't been getting any smaller. I'm still on my treatment but the doctors don't think it's helping. I can practically feel it, just destroying my lungs. It's gotten harder to breath and Dr. Avery thinks I'll be needing life support soon. 78 and dying. What a tragic story. Maybe they could make my life into a movie someday. Or yours. Although they would probably center it around Captain America with our luck. However, I do miss Steve. It's been half a century without his joyful energy too. Peggy is doing just fine, although her husband doesn't seem to be getting any better which is making her sadder by the day. She came to visit me yesterday and brought me, my favorite cookies. You know the ones covered in fudge? I always enjoy talks with her.

       Anyways, I just wanted to say I miss you, my love. I love you so much. You're everything to me, always have been and always will be. I'll see you soon.

I love you,