The cross stitches are sitting in a pile in the mailroom because I have no place to put them. At first, they were nice little things that you might hang, but now they are very blunt messages of how I am failing as a son to not visit more and how I am not settled down. I do talk to my mother about you, and about my team. She likes to hear the stories, but I think she will start to meddle soon if I tell her too much.
I cannot visit her now. We are on a long mission and there are other places I like to go on leave, now.
Why would people not like you in person? You are kind and compassionate, you always make me smile, and you have a very unique turn of phrase. Your letters are never stupid. I promise you. They have helped me through the worst parts of my life. You have helped me through those.
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