Today, as I sat down at my piano to practice, an old song I used to know came to mind. It was in a worn out packet of sheet music that I had misplaced. I was desperate to find it, so I pried open the lid of the piano bench I was sitting on for the first time in years (the lid is broken and it takes a lot of effort to move the hinges), and instead of finding my sheet music, I found a stack of letters.
I sifted through them... they were the few remaining survivors of an ongoing correspondence with a high school sweetheart who joined the army.
"Babe, whatcha thinkin bout these days? Anything good? Me, I just think about what's meant to be and what's to come. The story of my life I guess. I think about it every day. How's the weather down there in North Carolina? Real pretty I bet. Someday I wish you could show me that creek your always at and always talkin bout! I'm dying to see it because if I'm seeing it, must mean I'm with you. You make those mountains sound like heaven on earth. You make me jealous, babe, with all that country. I would die to live in the country. Truth is, I'm a country boy at heart."
These letters, those days of my life, are all a blur. I wonder whatever I did or said to make this boy fall for me. I was, in those days, a quiet girl, very much turned inward, so much so that even when I was turned outward, I was still seeing myself. I was struggling to find meaning in the world. I was anxious for friendship and love, and this boy was my friend. And I reckon he did love me.
"I wish there was some way besides writing we could talk. I ain't complaining, I'm happy we can talk this way. But could you fly down to Dallas so we can go dancing and have a good time? I can send money for the ticket. Anyways babe I look forward to your letter. I can't wait to read it. Sweety, your beautiful. Every day when I run the mile I think bout you in that shimmery dress you showed me. You looked like an angel. And it ain't your dress that made you that way because that's just you babe!"
I read these letters, at ages 15 and 16, and took for granted the affection and the honesty that in a few years would become nearly impossible to find in men.
Of course, as high school romances often do, this one slowly trickled to an end. Voices around me criticized. I felt guilty, I felt confused, but most of all, I felt young. Suddenly, so young. And at 16, I sent him my last letter, and received in turn, a last one from him.
"Oh Sarah. I'm sad. I guess your telling me this ain't gonna work out. But can I still call you my friend? Not in a bad way but you seem like you could use a friend. I guess God thought different if this is how it is to be now. What gets me thinkin is why did he have us meet and then rip us apart? I reckon he didn't want us together, but I wanted it. Real bad. It confuses me how bad, cause that never happened to me before. I think God should permit everyone just one question in their life, and I'd ask... 'how can I make her happy, lord.' This sucks babe... and I'm sorry you aren't happy."
The pain in that letter made tears come to my eyes today - six years later - because I know I caused him deep grief. Unwittingly or otherwise.
Years have passed, the young man who was the first to ever call me babe is now married! Still in the army. Off living a life. And I'm here, in my own life, looking back. And I'm so glad I get to look back, because those words were once real and raw, they were present - living - TRUE.
And while they're no longer true, they are still real, and they still touch my heart. They give me comfort and happiness. Maybe love is real. Whether it lasts or not.
A year ago, I received contact from this young man. He messaged me online. I had just returned home from my foray out into the world - from my real and horrible heartbreak. I poured out my troubles to him once again, and he replied, in true fashion, with a bit of wisdom.
"Love does weird things to people.... whether it be real or false...."
I guess that's the bottom line of all of it.
The question "is love real?" doesn't matter one bit.
Love does weird things to people, whether it be real or false.
Did a person change you? Did you change a person? Did you laugh? Did you cry? Did you rejoice, and ache, and yearn, and grow?
Those are the things that matter. Those are the things you'll remember.
"well babe, I reckon this letter is long enough. Consider this letter my kiss on your forehead! I know you haven't had your first kiss yet and if it's me or not doesn't matter, because all the lovin is here, babe, whether this amounts to something or nothin. Goodnight babe."
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