“It’s my wire.”
He laughed.
I kissed him.Birthdays & Name Days
Then I told him:
“I’ll wear this one until you replace it.”
Four days later, Thomas left.
Four months after that, his mother received the letter.
I still remember the envelope.
The official seal.
The way her hand started shaking before she even opened it.
We sat at her kitchen table.
She made it halfway through before she couldn’t read anymore.
I took the letter.
I don’t remember the exact words now.
Only what they meant.
Thomas was not coming home.
I slid from the chair onto the kitchen floor.
His mother sat beside me.
We cried together.
I never removed the copper ring.
People told me I would eventually.
They meant well.
“You’re eighteen.”
“You have your whole life.”
“You’ll meet someone.”
I did meet people.
Good men.
Kind men.
Men who probably would have made wonderful husbands.
