Vox Meditantis

15th July, 1921
4723 South State Street, Chicago, Illinois

My Dearest Annie,

Your letter of the 28th ultimo reached me this morning, and I confess it has left me in a state of considerable reflection. As I write these words from my modest lodgings on State Street, the sounds of the bustling city drift through my window—motor cars honking their horns, the distant clatter of the elevated railway, and the ever-present hum of progress that seems to define our modern age. Yet for all the noise and commotion that surrounds me, it is your gentle voice that echoes most clearly in my thoughts.

I must be forthright with you, my dear girl, about the circumstances that have brought me to this great metropolis. The opportunity with Armour & Company has proven more challenging than I had anticipated when I departed Montgomery last autumn. The meat-packing industry, whilst offering substantial prospects for a man of ambition, demands sacrifices that I had not fully comprehended. The work is demanding, the hours long, and the competition amongst my fellow clerks is fierce. Some evenings I return to my quarters with hands stained and spirits dampened, wondering if I have made the correct choice in leaving the familiar comforts of Alabama.

It is during these moments of uncertainty that I find myself questioning whether I am worthy of your steadfast affection. Here I am, a man of modest means attempting to establish himself in a city where fortunes are made and lost with equal rapidity. The distance between Chicago and your father’s farm in Tuscaloosa feels not merely geographical but somehow more profound—as though I am reaching across a chasm of doubt that grows wider with each passing day. Can I truly offer you the security and happiness that you deserve? The question haunts me, Annie, and I would be dishonest if I claimed otherwise.

Yet even as I confess these doubts, I am compelled to share with you the source of my greatest pride. Yesterday, Mr. Hanrahan, the departmental supervisor, commended my work on the new refrigeration systems. He spoke of advancement, of opportunities for those who demonstrate both diligence and innovation. I stood straighter in that moment, Annie, knowing that each small triumph brings me closer to the day when I might offer you my hand without reservation or apology.

More than professional advancement, however, I am proud of the love that burns within my heart for you. It is a love that has weathered our separation, that grows stronger rather than weaker with each passing month. When I walk through Lincoln Park on Sunday afternoons, observing the young couples strolling beneath the elm trees, I am filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the remarkable woman who has chosen to wait for me. Your patience, your devoted faith in our future together—these gifts humble me profoundly.

I am proud, too, of the progress our nation continues to make. Only last year, women such as yourself gained the right to vote, and I cannot help but marvel at the changing world we are privileged to witness. You write with such intelligence and insight about the political developments in Alabama, and I am reminded daily of how fortunate I am to love a woman of such character and understanding.

The enclosed photograph was taken last month outside the Union Stock Yards. I appear rather serious, I fear, but I wanted you to see how Chicago has changed me—perhaps aged me, but also strengthened my resolve. I carry your likeness with me always, and it has become something of a talisman amongst my colleagues, who tease me good-naturedly about my “Southern belle.”

I must close now, as the evening post requires prompt attention if this letter is to reach you in reasonable time. Please give my regards to your dear parents, and know that scarcely an hour passes without my thoughts turning to you.

With deepest affection and unwavering devotion, despite the doubts that sometimes cloud my mind,

Your devoted, Walter

P.S. I have enclosed a small sum with instructions to the local florist to deliver spring flowers to your door. They pale in comparison to your beauty, but I hope they might serve as a modest reminder of my constant thoughts of you.

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Bob Lynn | © 2025 Vox Meditantis. All rights reserved.