The perfect gift
You were the
To win my
But you were the
Carting us here
my home growing up
for fifteen formative years
presented by my mother
on my wedding day
Back when school
It was 1966.
I was a freshman in college.
He was a friend of a friend,
a recent graduate with a
degree in accounting,
heading to Vietnam as part
of an Army artillery battalion.
I toted my books from class to class
day after day.
He put his ledgers aside
manning machine guns,
mortars and howitzers.
I retired to the comfort of an
air conditioned dorm room.
He sweat buckets in the jungle 24/7.
I bemoaned dorm food.
He ate C rations.
I penned letters on crisp stationary.
He scribbled on scraps of paper
in pencil, as pens were rendered
useless by unrelenting heat and humidity.
I fell into a safe, cozy bed at night.
He wondered if he would see the morning.
I was immature and self-absorbed.
He exemplified dedication, service and sacrifice.
I was a link to normalcy and home.
He was a glimpse into the chaos of war.
I went on to graduate school.
He resumed civilian life in Iowa.
A call came years later, just to say hello.
Pen pals still connected.