Letters from Nam
Letter One
A/N: Thankyou Joan McAninch Samuelson for allowing letters from her loved one to be read.
Tuesday, February 4th, 1969
Dear Meg,
I am at a loss as to what I can say that will make you feel any better. We parted under harsh circumstances and for that I am sorry. I wish things could have been different. Maybe there was some other way to break it to you. Another way that might have made it easier to hear. But under all these apologies and formalities, all I can say now is that I miss you and wait for the day that we will be together again. My regiment has not yet been assigned a mission, so return post should be to the address given.
Yours
Forever and Always,
Chris.
Meg lay the short note flat on the table in front of her. She glared at it, searching for some sign of emotion, other than the words on the paper. It turned her heart brittle and cold to know that these letters filled with sentiment, meant for loved ones, were read first by censors. Hard, broken men that couldn't remember love, even if they'd wanted to.
She imagined Chris sitting on a rock somewhere, scrawling desperately on a scrap of paper, by the light of the moon. Trying to find the words that would give Meg comfort and convey his feelings, yet at the same time, careful not to say too much, as his thoughts and feelings were his own, and not for the officer who had been assigned to censoring the outgoing post. Never finding the right words, Meg imagined long, heart-felt letters, screwed up his feet ready to be added to the small fire that crackled in front of him, instead settling for a cold note of well wishes, hoping that his loved ones would read between the lines.
And this is what Meg was trying to do. Read between the lines. But for as long as she searched the jumble of letters and punctuation, Meg came up empty handed. The only way she would know Chris's true feelings, and what he truly wanted to say, would be to look into his eyes. And have his eyes look back into hers.
It had always been said that the eyes are a window to the soul, and the soul never lies. Whatever Chris wasn't saying to Meg in his brief letters, he was hiding in the deep corners of his soul, waiting for the day when Meg might be able to retrieve it.
She gently, refolded the letter, careful to use the original creases made by Chris, and slipped it back into it's envelope. She disappeared into her bedroom and opened her closet. Removing an empty shoebox, she sat on her bed and put Chris's first letter into the bottom. Replacing the lid, Meg took a marker and wrote neatly on the top - Letters from Nam.