Thursday, November 13, 2003
Dearest Pista,
The night I met you I was wearing a black dress, black stockings (pantyhose weren't invented yet) and black 3" spiked shoes. My hair was very dark and you used to call me blackhead. You didn't know the meaning of blackhead then. Today I will be wearing black again, the heels not so high, the hair not so black. Thank you for 40 years of memories and most of all for Stevie and Heidi and now our little Hanna. Nothing else amtters. Rest in welcomed peace.
Love eternal,
Mattie</b></font><br><br>
