Stories From A Letter

The envelope's postmarked 1984. The pages-I take out are dull and yellow with age. Corners are turned up, ink is faded, brown stains dot the pages- like confetti.  The letter folds, are just as crisp, just as lovingly creased, as the day the letter reached it's destination-28 years ago-, at Fort Dix, New Jersey  http://www.army-technology.com/ . I lived there, for four months, that year, and I learned that life was different, for a small town girl, on her first trip away from home.

As I unfold this letter-that I hold- a sentence jumps out a me. Mom asks why haven't I written her back yet?  Why could I have not written, just one line, to let her know how I was doing?  I try to think now, what was the reason, the excuse, for not writing that answering letter, that had meant so much to her-so long ago.  http://books.google.com/ (Letter writing as a social practice/Excuses for not writing a letter.)

As I continue reading,tears well up in my eyes, for I cannot answer that long ago question. She is no longer here, to get the answer.  I struggle to remember if I ever wrote an answer.  And the truth, which makes me feel worse, is that I just don't know. 

What made me neglect to write -in a letter-what was going on for me, at that time?  I remember flashes of things.  Endless training, exercising, studying, training-in preparation-for Uncle Sam's plans for me. Why did I not tell my mom how busy my life was, at that time?  How it was changing so much, and seemed so out of my control?

As I sit here, thinking, I realize, I know the reason why I did not write, more. Or tell my mom more. My very time away from home was filled with worry and responsibility.  I'd never had so much.  And loneliness and a craving for home, which I had been in such a hurry to leave, had filled my every thought.  Knowlege of this, though, I knew would have made her feel worse.

In my haste, to not worry my own mom, I had worried her, endlessly.  I hadn't wanted to mention that I'd made a mistake, and I that I wished I could come back home- again.  Never, would I have mentioned the non-stop flirtation-offers from guys, to visit their rooms- or the girls who got pregnant.

I hadn't wanted her to know that I was miserable.  So silence, kept the worry at bay, unwritten letters, kept me from blurting the truth, from wanting to run to my mom and not live the crazy life, that I then faced, as an adult.

I know now, this page I hold,-filled with stories from a letter-were an attempt from mom to hide pain and worry-she felt herself- and an attempt to tell of happier times. So, times when I did not write, were times of worry, and therefore I could not write letters of such reassurance myself. Nothing that would have reassured a mom, filled with worry for her only daughter.

I carefully fold this letter up. I put it back on top of a pile of such letters, written lovingly, and to reassure a daughter, far from home.  Each letter whispers of bits and pieces of, two separate, yet shared lives, and  thoughts that are over twenty eight years old.  I carefully put the letters away.  I know that each letter will call to me, and when they do, I'll be ready.

Nothing Lasts Forever

I was on the main drag-of an area filled with restaurants along that road-awhile back, and I saw something that made me smile as I was getting ready to pull out of a Wendy's.  There was an elderly man-back bent with age-who slowly trudged around to his wife's side of the car, and then he slowly opened the door for her.  First of all, today, you don't often see anyone opening doors for their other half- so that caught my attention- but also his endless patience and obvious love for her, well that almost brought tears to my eyes.

So when you see things like this,and know it does exist,- that eternal love, that lasting love-why then do people always say nothing lasts forever?  Why then do marriages not last longer?  My mom always said "Marriage is like a garden, and you have to keep pulling the weeds."  But what if there are so many weeds you can't see where your walking anymore?  What if the weeds are gone but you don't see your other half anymore once the weeds are cleared?

So what's the secret to marriages that last as long as the one I saw that day?  Where you make it to old age and your backs bent over, but in your eyes, that man or woman is as beautiful as the first day you met them?  What makes that old heart sing when the beats are slower now, but your love makes that heart beat as sure and strong as it had when you were younger?

Everything would have to go back I guess- to the moment you first met.  That first time your eyes connected and you said to yourself wow! would you look at that?  That first time you wanted to race to that person, get him or her before someone else did. 

And when you got married you couldn't wait for the end of the day to see them again.  Having to tell them bye each morning was like taking your heart out of your chest and sending it off with them each day.  You think I'm kidding, I'm sure, but in a way -literally- I felt that when I first got married.  I've still got that crazy, wild beating heart, it's just calmed now with life, a wee one, school and the responsibilities that come along in life.

I've heard, from family, that in time that crazy love goes away, that in time we-spouses, etc. become more like good friends.  But do I want to be just good friends?  Don't I want to have that strong bond, that love eternal-racing heart in tow-like that elderly couple I saw that day?  Yes, friendships good, but it's the racing heart that I want, that trapped beast, that's like a lions roar,one that states this is love! 

So is it true that nothing is everlasting?  Maybe some things.  But true love, strong love, now that is eternal, that is everlasting.