I thought the man I loved had vanished in Vietnam for fifty-five years. I continued to honor the pledge I had made to him when I was twenty-one by flying to his memorial each year with a white rose. However, the captain abruptly called my name over the speaker on my most recent flight and said something that stopped my heart.
When Thomas vanished over Vietnam, I was twenty-one. I’m seventy-six now, and up until this Tuesday, I believed that dying without saying goodbye was the worst thing he had ever done.
I informed him that engineers were bad boyfriends.
I was eighteen when we first met in college. He proposed to share a cup of coffee with me. He had fifty cents. I had twenty.”That’s not half,” I informed him.I’m a student of engineering. I’m able to make the math work.”
I was a literature student. He asserted that novels were innocent works featuring individuals who might resolve their issues by being open and honest.
