April 2, 1931

Dear Utah,

You will probably be surprised to be handed this letter, but as I am heading for the scrapyard for my last drift into a dream, this time an eternal one, I wanted to bid you farewell. Columbine, the steamer who is towing me, will be keeping this letter and making sure it reaches you. I am grateful for her: she is very nice to be around, despite her unfortunate job of taking us to our final destination.

That twist of fate, that you, out of all the older ships of the fleet, are going to take my place as the one who serves as the target for training, is one that warms my heart. Despite the circumstances in which we spent some closer time than we would have otherwise, Wyoming's dubious reasoning about pairing us together, and the fact we were not meant to be in the end, I appreciate that you still decided to give it a chance and were always good to me.

It does happen that sometimes love does not bloom between two ships, but it's nothing to be ashamed about: it is simply a part of life. Your heart belonged to someone else the whole time, but given your state of mind at the time, it was only to be expected that you would try and think about healing your heart with another. I still do not and will never hold it against you, although I am still a little sad about it.

Most importantly, I hope you and Nevada are happy. I wish only happiness to the both of you, no matter if the Navy's decisions were to separate you forever one day. When I would catch a glance of you two together every now and then, it was so clear to me how much you two loved each other. Your laughter, your gestures, the way you looked at each other, the palpable connection, it was falling perfectly into place again. Your peachy lips were finally back to hers, and although they felt good on mine, they would have spent their whole life in sadness if they had remained there.

I remember that night we spent together, Utah, and the moment when you teared up and told me to release you, that ultimately, you could not bring yourself to really enjoy it, not because I was doing anything wrong or because I was not beautiful enough for you, but because I simply was not her, and that it was her, the USS Nevada, who you really wanted. I remember how we both cried in each other's arms. It was not an easy moment, was it? But ultimately, I am thankful, always thankful, that you did so cleanly, and that you made sure to let me know it was not because of a shortcoming on my end. And I was sad, but relieved to free you, finally, so you could fly back to her. The last thing I would have wanted would have been to unknowingly clip your wings and have you live as my captive.

Keep being a happy and funny girl, Utah. Keep close to your beloved Nevada however and whenever you can. We may cross paths again in a new life, but for now, please enjoy the time you have with her, as both of yourselves. We get only one life as who we are right now. Mine is about to end, but I regret nothing. This little murmur in my heart made my career a peaceful one, and it could not have been better for a temperament like mine. Some may think it was not worth remembering, but it was an agreeable one. The only downside was my sister's perpetual gloom and sourness, but even this is not something I resent. The Great Spirit knows, and I wholeheartedly believe that I was given exactly what I was meant to experience this time around.

When it will be time, I will just fall asleep as I always did, and the last words of my life will be penned down as my vessel will live on as razor blades and a variety of other things. I will not be in pain. I will be thinking of many things, of the men who manned the giant metal structure that used to hold my spirit, of the ones, men and ships, who may no longer be there, even of my sister, as she deserves love still, of Wyoming, of the other ships, of Mr. Reid, whose body I escorted back home along with this British ship, and of this Italian ambassador who I did the same for... and of course, of you.

With a gentle embrace,

North Dakota.

November 10, 1908 - Spring of 1931