February 14th, 1976
Dear Jonny,
Well it's that day of the year again. Yes, you guessed it. Today is Valentine's Day. It seems surreal that this much time has passed already. I am not sure you remember how long it has been, since I am not exactly sure what you are up to these days. Something far too interesting for you to bother to remember about little old me I am sure. But that's okay, you deserve to enjoy yourself. You have been through so much, haven't you? More than you would ever tell me about. Anyways, if you care to take a trip down memory lane, I can provide the acid. Hah hah, just kidding. We already tried that back in '66. Certainly you remember that. When you saw a whale swimming in our pool, you vowed never to do it again.
I am losing my train of thought. I'm sorry, I know you have always said I should ramble less. Or is it me who says that? I don't know. But anyways, here is a little refresher. One year ago today, I received your last letter. Maybe I should just quote it for you. I am sure I have somewhere around here. Yes, I do have it. It is still under my pillow, how could I have forgotten? I don't know how I manage myself without you. But I suppose in this letter I do have a piece of you with me. And I also suppose I should write it out for you now. Here is what you wrote. Does it ring a bell?
Feb. 14th, 1975
Dear Chris,
Happy Valentine's Day. I hope this arrives on time. I would hate for you to think I forgot about this special day .I'm sorry I have no gift for you, as I am sure you are aware, but I hope this letter will be enough. I just wanted to tell you how much you mean to me. It is thoughts of you and only you which keep me going in this terrible place.
Sometimes, and don't freak out when I say this, when I wake up in my cot to the sound of gunfire and men screaming and shouting, I consider giving up, accepting defeat. I think how it would feel to get a gun in my hand and aim it at my own head. But then your face flashes in front of my eyes. Your beautifully sculpted face, with angel's eyes. And then I see that same face contort into a grimace; I see those eyes fill up with tears. And I feel my heart jump and beat life back into my bones. And I know that I've got to keep going, if just to see you again and to keep you happy.
And did I tell you? There is talk about a pull out. I am sure you have heard that funding is slowly being cut off. But this is still quite sudden. Not one of us expected to get out so early. I think of the civilians we will leave behind, but I must say with all honesty that I couldn't care less. Because in about forty days or so, a helicopter will get us the fuck out of here and I will be able to hold you in my arms again. I'll see you soon, my love.
-Jonathon
In the next letter I sent you, I told you how much that meant to me. But who knows if you ever got it? I doubt it. I don't think it was even delivered to the correct place. So I will tell you again in this one. That letter meant the world to me. Knowing just how much you cared, it filled me with the greatest of joys. And I hope you will be filled with an equal amount of joy when you read my reaction to it.
But once again, I don't expect much. Who knows what kinds of exciting things you do in your daily routine now. Surely it is far more interesting than a pathetic thin man in a ratty old bathrobe, writing to you from his bedroom in the house he shares with no one. I know I promised I'd move on if things turned out like this. I am sorry that it has been nearly a year since that day and yet that promise remains unfulfilled. But after I send this to you, I think I can finally begin to keep it. I just needed to say goodbye.
So here it is. Goodbye Jonathon Buckland. I have always loved you. I love you even as I write this, and I can guarantee that in the future I will feel the same, even after I've moved on. Every day, I stare at your hat and am filled with affection for you. Oh, and I'm sorry, but I threw out the pocket knife. I just couldn't bear to look at it. It reminded me of.....well I'm sure you know. I don't have to tell you what happened do I? I'd rather not dwell on that anyways. Not for another couple of weeks, that is.
But you can be assured that on March 1st I will weep for you. That is nothing new, nor unexpected I'm sure. You must have known it would be like this. I hope you don't feel bad about it, because I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault. I know you tried your hardest. It could have happened to anybody. I'm sure it probably did happen to many others. But that doesn't change how much it hurts, how much I wish I could wrap my arms around you just one more time, or even see your face.
But a letter is what I what I have, and a letter is what I will have to make do with. I hope you can make do with one too. I hope in this measly letter I can express the amount of love I feel for you. And the amount of longing I have deep inside to be with you now. But I will carry on, for your sake. You wouldn't want me to be unhappy. And I am sure you'd rather I didn't join you where you are. I'll abide to your wishes. But be warned, I might just get there eventually. I hope so. Put in a good word for me, eh?
Love, Chris
Chris folded the letter and placed it in an envelope. He smiled complacently down at it. Slowly, he rose from his old wooden desk chair. He leaned down and lightly kissed the hat sitting lazily on the desk's surface. Then he picked up the letter and walked down the hall and to the main room with a purpose.
He stood in front of the fireplace. A fire was already blazing brightly in it, started a few hours before. Chris glanced out the window. It was dusk, and it was snowing. He figured this was a good atmosphere. He looked down once more at the crisp white envelope in his hand. He swallowed, and fixated his gaze on the flames. They would be his messengers tonight.
Slowly, tenderly, he leaned down and reached his hand out towards the fire. But his hand never touched the raging flames, the letter did. Chris watched intently as it blackened and smoldered. Tears came to his eyes as he watched the grey ashes float gently up through the chimney. A successful mailing. Wiping the tears away, he whispered, "Happy Valentine's Day, Jonny."
Dear Jonny,
Well it's that day of the year again. Yes, you guessed it. Today is Valentine's Day. It seems surreal that this much time has passed already. I am not sure you remember how long it has been, since I am not exactly sure what you are up to these days. Something far too interesting for you to bother to remember about little old me I am sure. But that's okay, you deserve to enjoy yourself. You have been through so much, haven't you? More than you would ever tell me about. Anyways, if you care to take a trip down memory lane, I can provide the acid. Hah hah, just kidding. We already tried that back in '66. Certainly you remember that. When you saw a whale swimming in our pool, you vowed never to do it again.
I am losing my train of thought. I'm sorry, I know you have always said I should ramble less. Or is it me who says that? I don't know. But anyways, here is a little refresher. One year ago today, I received your last letter. Maybe I should just quote it for you. I am sure I have somewhere around here. Yes, I do have it. It is still under my pillow, how could I have forgotten? I don't know how I manage myself without you. But I suppose in this letter I do have a piece of you with me. And I also suppose I should write it out for you now. Here is what you wrote. Does it ring a bell?
Feb. 14th, 1975
Dear Chris,
Happy Valentine's Day. I hope this arrives on time. I would hate for you to think I forgot about this special day .I'm sorry I have no gift for you, as I am sure you are aware, but I hope this letter will be enough. I just wanted to tell you how much you mean to me. It is thoughts of you and only you which keep me going in this terrible place.
Sometimes, and don't freak out when I say this, when I wake up in my cot to the sound of gunfire and men screaming and shouting, I consider giving up, accepting defeat. I think how it would feel to get a gun in my hand and aim it at my own head. But then your face flashes in front of my eyes. Your beautifully sculpted face, with angel's eyes. And then I see that same face contort into a grimace; I see those eyes fill up with tears. And I feel my heart jump and beat life back into my bones. And I know that I've got to keep going, if just to see you again and to keep you happy.
And did I tell you? There is talk about a pull out. I am sure you have heard that funding is slowly being cut off. But this is still quite sudden. Not one of us expected to get out so early. I think of the civilians we will leave behind, but I must say with all honesty that I couldn't care less. Because in about forty days or so, a helicopter will get us the fuck out of here and I will be able to hold you in my arms again. I'll see you soon, my love.
-Jonathon
In the next letter I sent you, I told you how much that meant to me. But who knows if you ever got it? I doubt it. I don't think it was even delivered to the correct place. So I will tell you again in this one. That letter meant the world to me. Knowing just how much you cared, it filled me with the greatest of joys. And I hope you will be filled with an equal amount of joy when you read my reaction to it.
But once again, I don't expect much. Who knows what kinds of exciting things you do in your daily routine now. Surely it is far more interesting than a pathetic thin man in a ratty old bathrobe, writing to you from his bedroom in the house he shares with no one. I know I promised I'd move on if things turned out like this. I am sorry that it has been nearly a year since that day and yet that promise remains unfulfilled. But after I send this to you, I think I can finally begin to keep it. I just needed to say goodbye.
So here it is. Goodbye Jonathon Buckland. I have always loved you. I love you even as I write this, and I can guarantee that in the future I will feel the same, even after I've moved on. Every day, I stare at your hat and am filled with affection for you. Oh, and I'm sorry, but I threw out the pocket knife. I just couldn't bear to look at it. It reminded me of.....well I'm sure you know. I don't have to tell you what happened do I? I'd rather not dwell on that anyways. Not for another couple of weeks, that is.
But you can be assured that on March 1st I will weep for you. That is nothing new, nor unexpected I'm sure. You must have known it would be like this. I hope you don't feel bad about it, because I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault. I know you tried your hardest. It could have happened to anybody. I'm sure it probably did happen to many others. But that doesn't change how much it hurts, how much I wish I could wrap my arms around you just one more time, or even see your face.
But a letter is what I what I have, and a letter is what I will have to make do with. I hope you can make do with one too. I hope in this measly letter I can express the amount of love I feel for you. And the amount of longing I have deep inside to be with you now. But I will carry on, for your sake. You wouldn't want me to be unhappy. And I am sure you'd rather I didn't join you where you are. I'll abide to your wishes. But be warned, I might just get there eventually. I hope so. Put in a good word for me, eh?
Love, Chris
Chris folded the letter and placed it in an envelope. He smiled complacently down at it. Slowly, he rose from his old wooden desk chair. He leaned down and lightly kissed the hat sitting lazily on the desk's surface. Then he picked up the letter and walked down the hall and to the main room with a purpose.
He stood in front of the fireplace. A fire was already blazing brightly in it, started a few hours before. Chris glanced out the window. It was dusk, and it was snowing. He figured this was a good atmosphere. He looked down once more at the crisp white envelope in his hand. He swallowed, and fixated his gaze on the flames. They would be his messengers tonight.
Slowly, tenderly, he leaned down and reached his hand out towards the fire. But his hand never touched the raging flames, the letter did. Chris watched intently as it blackened and smoldered. Tears came to his eyes as he watched the grey ashes float gently up through the chimney. A successful mailing. Wiping the tears away, he whispered, "Happy Valentine's Day, Jonny."
THE END
No comments:
Post a Comment