it started as a couple of letters, a little program to let soldiers overseas know they’ve not been forgotten, that people still care, few at a time accompanying those she wrote to her brother as he, too, is overseas serving the country. she didn’t expect anything back, not when she knew even a fraction of what was going on there through the news, through mutual friends in the service that could give her any ounce of reassurance that her brother was okay, that it’s going to soon when she see’s him again ------ and yet, in spite of it all, in spite of what unimaginable things those men see out there, she got a single response. everything from then on had blossomed from that.
she told him everything it seemed like, everything he wanted to know about her, about life stateside, and some of her own questions were answered: where he was from, what he liked and didn’t like, what he does exactly ---- or what he could say about it. then it was like it all came to a halt a few months in. she stopped receiving letters in return, continued to write for a while because, of course, like with her brother, she didn’t know everything that was going on wherever this man might be, letters may have gotten lost in the mix. god only knew.
then, just like that, one day out of the blue, so many months later, there was another letter. the last thing she thought it would say was that he had returned to the states, broke her heart when she read that was in a nearby hospital. and of course she couldn’t just not go see him, meet him in person after he took it upon himself to tell her that he was back; after what, as cliche as it sounds, they’ve shared with one another she felt it was a decent thing to do. they once talked about meeting one another, she remembers, but she thought that perhaps it would have been on better terms.
she still goes, of course, no matter the circumstances, one soul to comfort another in a time of need, a handful of white asters to offer as a gift when they meet. coat is folded over her arm and she waits for a nurse to give her word, outside the room they said he was staying in. heart patters in her chest when the woman allows her in, teeth finding home in her bottom lip. ❝ it’s um . . . it’s christopher, right ? ❞
@connectedfaith / christopher swan
