Letter from a confederate girl

May 4, 1864

Dearest Joseph,

First let me tell you how much how much I miss you. Ever since you left for this dreaded war there has been an ever present silence in my life that used to be filled with carefree laughter and the deep vibration of your voice. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about your ocean blue eyes, or you star bright smile.

This may sound over dramatic, but I am very frightened for my life these dark days. Just last week those damn Yankee soldiers ransacked our small, humble home! The took everything Joseph, everything! Even Nana’s necklace. I was on my knees begging him to let me have just that one little memory of my dead grandmother, but no. Of course all he did was drag me outside and torch the house, forcing me to watch it crumble in a furious, roaring fire. And his men just laughed at me. I have never been more scared or more vulnerable in my life Jo. I’m glad you didn’t have to see me like that. And to make matters worse them yanks sure ain’t shy with their hands, I’m lucky their colonel called them away before they went too far, but I say again Joseph, I was terrified.

There is some light in this shadowed tunnel that is my life now. My beloved Brother Henry has come home from the war front alive and well. I am currently living with him, his lovely new wife Rebecca, and their two small children, our niece and nephew, Matthew and Madeline. They are 4 years old now and keep asking me when they are gonna meet their uncle Jo. I don’t have the heart to tell them you died in Gettysburg my dear, so they are still waiting for you to walk in the door like their daddy did, bringing candies from far away towns like you used to do for me. I miss that more than I can bear to say. Henry and Becca know though and will tell the children when they are older what happened to their gallant uncle.

I must tell you dear husband that I write to you in secret, for I fear that if anyone knew that I was writing to my lost love they would send me to a mad house, but I swear to you with God as my witness that I am not crazy. I just cannot bear to let you go from my heart, and writing to you lets me feel close to you. I swear sometimes I can smell fresh gunpowder on your coat mixed with the bittersweet smell of tobacco. I can feel your embrace as you said goodbye to me for the last time. I ain’t willing to let those feelings fly to far away.

Though you died in battle Dear Joseph, you live in my heart forever. I love you always.

Your wife,

Eliza Ann McKay