18 Dec 1921

18 December 1921

Chalet des Sapins, Montana-sur-Sierre, Switzerland

   It has been a fine day. The sun came into this room all the afternoon but at dusk an old ancient wind sprang up and it is shaking now and complaining. A terrible wind - a wind that one always mercifully forgets until it blows again. Do you know the kind I mean? It brings nothing but memories - and by memories I mean those that one cannot without pain remember. It always carries my brother to me. Ah Brett, I hope with all my heart you have not known anyone who has died young, long before their time. It is bitterness. But what am I thinking of? I wanted to write you a Christmas letter. I wanted to wish you joy.
   I can - in spite of everything in life - I can, and by that I dont mean that its any desperate difficulty. No, let us rejoice - that we are alive and know each other & walk the earth at the same time. Let us make plans, and fulfil them, and be happy when we meet, and laugh a great deal this year and never cry. Above all - lets be friends. There was that in your last letter which made you dearer to me than ever before. I dont know what it was. It was as though you came out of the letter & touched me & smiled and I understood your goodness.
   Blessings on you, dear little artist. I put my arms round you - I give you a warm embrace. Be happy! I am your loving
                        Tig   [To Dorothy Brett, 19 December 1921.]