Звездный десант

           But,dearest,thatishiswayofgrieving,sincehecannotcry.Youmustunderstand,mydarlingbaby,thathelovesyoumorethanlifeitself—morethanhedoesme—andthatyouhavehurthimverydeeply.Hetellstheworldthatyouareagrownman,capableofmakingyourowndecisions,andthatheisproudofyou.Butthatishisownpridespeaking,thebitterhurtofaproudmanwhohasbeenwoundeddeepinhisheartbytheonehelovesbest.Youmustunderstand,Juanito,thathedoesnotspeakofyouandhasnotwrittentoyoubecausehecannot—notyet,nottillhisgriefbecomesbearable.Whenithas,Iwillknowit,andthenIwillintercedeforyou—andwewillallbetogetheragain.

           Myself?Howcouldanythingherbabyboydoesangerhismother?Youcanhurtme,butyoucannotmakemeloveyoutheless.Whereveryouare,whateveryouchoosetodo,youarealwaysmylittleboywhobangshiskneeandcomesrunningtomylapforcomfort.Mylaphasshrunk,orperhapsyouhavegrown(thoughIhaveneverbelievedit),butnonethelessitwillalwaysbewaiting,whenyouneedit.Littleboysnevergetoverneedingtheirmother’slaps—dothey,darling?Ihopenot.Ihopethatyouwillwriteandtellmeso.ButImustaddthat,inviewoftheterriblylongtimethatyouhavenotwritten,itisprobablybest(untilIletyouknowotherwise)foryoutowritetomecareofyourAuntEleanora.Shewillpassitontomeatonce—andwithoutcausinganymoreupset.