When a man loves A Women – World War II
It all began one late afternoon
in October when my father
handed me a stack of letters,
“For the stamps” he said. Well,
I knew different when I reached
out and touched the letters.
Father continued to point toward
the stamps, repeating how valuable
I was never a stamp collector,
but I am a writer.
Like most evenings, I retired early,
turned on the television, switched the
bedside lamp on and pretended to
listen to the program which is a
normal part of falling asleep.
I stacked the letters inside my dresser
near the bed, and this would be the first time
I learned the inside workings of my
mother and father.
My heart began to beat faster, recognizing
old familiar feelings – sayings I heard
as a child – now – filled with anticipation.
A smile covered my face,
no one would see it, but I knew it,
and I even heard myself giggle.
Between letters I repositioned myself
on the bed, my legs moving nervously about
as I lived their world, felt their emotions,
love, desperation, and dreams.
Nothing could be better,
nothing could compare to this night.
My mother said, “One day we may have
a little girl, and when she’s grown she
may want to read all we have said.”
Mother died young, but I recall
all her words, and now in black
Nancy Duci Denofio
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