It’s already past 10:00. The moments crawl by like hours. The second hand moves slowly. Another half minute, 40 seconds, 50 seconds, almost a minute. Soon, very soon, I’ll be speaking with you, my man. I am so excited. It’s 10:12. I am starting to dial…
It’s already 11:00. I finally reached the company after dialing endlessly. Apparently, you were asleep. I left a message. My chest is aching from so much anticipation. I had been waiting all day for this conversation, my love, what a shame. I feel so upset and pained. I feel like crying.
Tomorrow I will try again.
My dear man, I miss you so much. I am waiting for the weekend, hoping you’ll be home. Lots and lots of kisses and good night,
Yours forever, Lily.
2 December 1975
My Lily,
What is love? A hard question.
We have tried many times to talk about it. We’ve tried to locate the pain in the body called love – pain in the chest, fullness in the chest, pressure in the throat, headache, stomachache. We searched for pleasant feelings, but they don’t capture love. We’ve tried to describe emotionally what happens to us, the lovers: to think as two yet be one, to want to always be together, to experience everything together, and so many endless possibilities. My Lily, I feel it all. I’m at a loss to describe what is happening within me, in my soul. My dear wife, your vocabulary is so vast, describing what is between us in an extraordinary way. I told you I don’t want to copy. But if you doubled and tripled what is in your letters, it would still only partially describe my feelings for you.
My Lily, we are one, and we will remain one forever.
Preparing now for tomorrow morning.
My woman, my love,
Michael.
14 December 1975
You left. The parting itself was not hard, but now, after only a few short hours – sadness has settled in.
The house is empty without your smiles, your presence, your love, your words, your steps, your caresses – without you.
My dear Michael, once at the start of our shared path (a ride for life, as you call it), I told you that for the first time inmy life, the word “love” felt redundant, banal, and simplistic, expressing only the surface of a deep emotion. But today I can’t stop saying that I love you. I have reached a place where I cannot unload the enormous emotional weight inside me, and I don’t know if I will ever be able to. Because this feeling only grows stronger and more powerful every day. That is why when I say I love you, Michael, it relieves a little of the heavy, yet wonderful pressure inside me. And I am sure that to you, that “banal” word carries the meaning beyond words – something only you and I share.
Michael, I enjoyed every moment of our time together. When you left, I went back to bed, lay my head on your pillow, and breathed in deeply the scent of your hair. That is how I fell asleep. Michael, I will wait for you to return. I will wait with all my being. And in the meantime, I will pluck stars for you, tie them with a ribbon, and send them by registered mail.
Yours, your loving and longing wife,
Lily.
14 December 1975
My Lily,
Despair – not only have we parted, not only have we returned to base, but while unloading gear in the room, my glasses fell and shattered. The lenses are gone completely. And I’m nearly blind.
My Lily, I want to be with you, to breathe you, to feel you, to electrify the air between us.
My Lily, the pace of things here is murderous. The rain has soaked all our gear, and there is no time to dry or clean anything. The mud clings to everything.
My Lily, every moment, every minute, every second, I am with you. I feel you, I think of you, I want you, I want us to be together. To build our life together.
Touch – that is the word I miss. It may express the togetherness, the shared looks that sometimes embarrass me, and you ask
me why.
Love you,
Michael.
