Write to yourself from tomorrow.
I hope you and Jane had a wonderful day yesterday on your birthday. I enjoyed our toast by Skype and am sorry I could not hang on a bit longer – I was just so tired and knew you would understand.
This must likewise be short. But it is important. I developed a temperature during the night and have the dreaded dry cough. Please do not come heading straight over – it’s not too bad at the moment. I don’t want you to get it. But please, stand by your phone and be patient if I ring you, even in the middle of the night. If I say, “Come,” please come quickly. I do admit, I am a bit frightened. I should be OK but, as you know, my heart can play up and we must both face the possibilities.
I can’t write any more. Just too tired. I love you, sweetheart. I am thinking of that day, 26 years ago, when you came into the world so precipitately.
Got to sleep.
MumDeb Shedden (NB. This is fiction)