My First Romance

My first romance

There’s so much to go through when clearing out an old house. The papers, the glasses, the painting and pictures and even a few old coffee cans with who-knows-what waiting patiently to be released.

Of all of this, it’s the dusty old pictures that seemed to always capture Linda’s attention. Many of them would have faded dates on the back but not all. Some would have a location or event scribbled out, but not all.

The pictures of weddings and baptisms were easy enough to discern but it was the more obscure ones that seemed to tell the story. The ones with no date and no scribbles on the back were the ones she was drawn to, just the faces.

And holding back a sneeze, she watched a dusty clump drift down to the floor. How many times had she been in here? Her parent’s attic, the home she grew up in, sitting among the boxes of papers and broken furniture.

As a child she spent hours roaming through the pictures and clipping, wondering what made them important enough to keep.

A tear gently moved down her cheek as she thought about how now it was her that would decide what was important enough to keep.

She came across an old letter that she’d seen before back when she was very young…

June 5^th, 1944

Meine schatz,   

I can only think of you with the sweetness of the apple from our tree. It is my time to share with you the beauty and warmth you have so easily given me.

Under that generous tree I slept the deepest and tender of sleeps. Those dreams of you, under our tree and under our clouds and for which I could want for nothing.

That is a place I yearn to go back to and listen to your innocent laugh…

Linda heard a bird chirping away at the octagonal window in front of her.

With mom gone, the house had become a challenge for him to keep up with. As things were, it was more important for dad to keep his friends close than to move closer to her.

The residence would provide for medical needs as well and it really wasn’t that far. And with her own kids, she and her husband were not in a position to move.

With all these things in mind, she begrudgingly agreed that selling the beautiful old home was the most logical option. Of course, none of this provided her with much comfort as she sorted through the keepsakes that represented her parent’s life together.

Even as child, she loved to look at all those yellowing pictures and, sitting in almost the exact same spot as right now.

“Who is that man mommy?”

Her mom turns while dusting the octagonal shaped attic window, “Why that’s daddy honey, don’t you recognize him?”

“He’s wearing a funny outfit.”

Her mother glanced at the photo as she dusted, “Oh those are just his army clothes. Your daddy fought in the war you know.”

“So this picture is from the war mommy?”

Linda’s mother put down the feather duster and sat on an old milk crate next to her daughter,

“That picture was taken in a little French town called Montigny”.

Then she sighed, “I hadn’t even met your daddy then.”

And now Linda heard the footsteps of her father plodding up the narrow attic steps and grumbling to himself all the way. Mom had been gone nearly eight months now but he has held up remarkably well she thought.

“I got your old war photo right here dad. Handsome.”

Her father glanced at it briefly and looked away, “That’s not what I’m looking for.”

Linda stood up to face her father. He seemed annoyed or agitated somehow.

“What’s the matter dad?”

“I just want to find that letter.” He sat down on the box with a huff.

She knew exactly what letter her father was referring to. It was the same one her mother wound up showing her in the attic that day when she was a little girl.

It was the same letter she had seen many times since. And it was the same letter her mother referred to as the ‘love’ letter’. Her mother described it as the most beautiful letter she had ever seen and it brought such warmth to her each time she read it.

The letter went on,

… and for now, meine schatz, I must prepare you to the time upon which you will hear of our great actions. For tomorrow is the day that we have bravely prepared for and willingly face as a test of our duty to country.

We will land in France at dawn and I shall carry you with me as the reason I push on.

Until again we meet under our apple tree…

All meine liebe,

Linda sat next to her father in much the same position her mother did so many years ago and handed him the letter, “You mean this one?”

It was tattered and dog-eared in places. The pencil it was written in had faded and the places where it was folded had started to tear.

Her father let out a sigh as his moistened. She watched with amazement as he read over every word as if he hadn’t seen it before.

And it was a grand letter indeed. It was beautiful and moving. It was made even more touching that it came from a young man about to face his own mortality.

She cried too.

Linda waited a moment before asking,

“You know dad, I always wondered, “Did mom get the letter while you were still over there? I ask because I can’t find the envelope it came with anywhere.”

He just smiled in a boyish `I got a secret` kind of way,

“Oh no dear, the letter got long lost in the months afterward. I didn’t find it till I got back stateside with just my boots and a ruck with me and there it was.”

Linda was truly confused now,

“But it did get delivered, right? I mean delivered to her, right?”

He father cheered almost magically and laughed from his belly,

“You never heard the story? I know your sister did!”

Linda felt a bit removed now but knew it was important to him and most certainly to her.

He began, “Ok so she’d read it of course but immediately assumed it was to another woman! Can you imagine?”

“What? Another woman? Was she angry?”

Continuing, “Well she was at first. And she was kind of right.” He gently folded the letter.

“There was no other woman for me, there was no one at all. I hadn’t even met your mother.”

But there was a woman to this guy Ollie. And he did write a letter.”

Linda was now listening with her mouth open. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“The letter was from a bunkmate of mine, he let me borrow it overnight, before he thought it’d go out in the mail in the morning.

Linda, “Yuck, that’s kinda weird dad”.

“The next day was D-Day!

None of us slept. Guys were writing wills and last wishes. We were heading into the war of wars that morning, we were writing our last words far as we knew. It was lonelier than any other time in the war, in my life really”

Linda pressed on, “But why, I don’t get it.”

“It was me facing death alone, I looked around at all the guys writing letters, all the heart and all the things they wanted to say, those moments that they wanted to cherish and preserve”

With a muted laugh,

“One guy reads his aloud. His name was Ozwalt Franks, we just called him `Ollie` because of the Laurel and Hardy comedy act.”

“But his name’s actually German. Or German-American I guess. Ollie’s heritage came up but it never seemed to bother the guys at all. I always figured if he was a spy he’d find a better assignment than Omaha Beach of all places.”

“Anyway, all I remember is saying, ‘Hey bumpkin, you’ve never even been near Coney Island’.”

“And him coming back with, `Yea but I could have`”

“That part always stuck with me, how he said that.”

“After the lights out call, I asked him if I could read it a bit. I just wanted to feel what they must have felt, having someone special like that to help you through. I knew I was going to need that.”

“Anyways, I never got it back to him before we headed out.”

“Ozwalt was one of the first casualties of my unit that day. And I did think about that letter. And I did think about how it would be to have someone that special someday.”

“Your mom understood, it was a running gag with us all these years. But the letter took on meaning for us somehow. I was longing to meet her before I even met her.”

“I could never have come up with the words that were on those pages.”

“I mean honestly, when have you ever heard me speak or write German anyhow.”

“But, it didn’t matter. I may not have written it, but I meant every word.”