The Letter

Grandma Rose had asked me to clean out the attic for her, and I knew she was too frail to climb up here anymore, so the decision wasn’t hard. Neither was the choice to read the old letter that had fallen out of the envelope I picked up.

“September 15, 1964,

My Dearest Rosemary,

     I’m writing this as I sit and wait for the next plane. I know that you don’t believe in this war, but I hope you understand that this is something I just have to do.

     It’s not going to be that bad, I think. Vietnam is a small country and after all, how long can they hold out against the pride of the United States? I’m thinking the whole thing will be over and done long before the baby is born, and we can maybe buy that house in Seattle.

     Give the dogs a hug from me, and tell your brother to send me a gift box of his “special” brownies, ha ha ha. I love you with all my heart and soul - both of you,

Hugs and kisses,

Pvt. Harold Landers”

It was signed with a flourish, but the ink on the yellowed paper was spread in blotches, from what could only have been the many tears that were shed while reading it, time and again.

I wiped the tears from my own eyes, carefully folded the letter, and put it back in its envelope. Mom had told me the story about Grandpa Harry, a man she never got to meet, but who always inspired her.

He now inspired me.

I deploy in two weeks for Iraq, but I know it can’t be as bad as that awful mess in Vietnam was. It'll be over much quicker.