*The text is written poorly with many spelling errors*
Dear journal.
It has been too long. I had forgotten about you until we had to pack and move. The debt has caught up with us and we can no longer afford the current house. I thought I was over my illness but my voice and body are still weak and the bills for medicine have been piling up, at this point I am surprised that Lowan decided to go through with the marriage. I am now Aimbriel Willow Widdleby, a name that I am still trying to get used to. My mother insisted that I would be allowed to keep the family name, if only as a middle name. She was granted her wish and we are both happy.
Lowan has used the last of his savings to buy a new house, a smaller one. Today we shall bring the last of our belongings there and say farewell to our home. I will miss this place.
We will have little room and Lowan tells me that there may not be room enough for a cooking space and we do not have enough coin between our fingers to build a cooking shed. I will either have to try and be creative with the forge again, if he will allow, or hope to befriend the neighbor wives and fool them into allowing me to use their cooking fires. We will have to keep up appearances. He would be upset if anyone that will live around us notices our poor state, it will bring pity that neither of us wants.
He tells me that he loves me but I still feel his loathing and anger. I have caused him to lose his family's smithy. I have forced us to move away from Combe to find cheaper housing. I have forced him to take care of a sick wife that still needs medicine. Why can't I just get better? Why must it all be so costly?
There are so many blacksmiths around this land now that Lowan barely gets any work and I have not been able to make anything for the market for a long time. When will I get better? When will my illness stop so that we can crawl out of this horrible debt I have made? Why did this happen to us?
*The following words are hard to make out, the ink smudged*
I do not know when I may be able to write into you next but maybe when we have settled in I will visit you again, journal. It is a good place to practice my writing and unburden myself. Thank you.
