It started with a question and ended in an “I do.”

The memories are always there. The love, the laughs, the goose bumps. Everything from then is here and everyone, but you.

Pillowcase, now soaked with last night’s tears, I turn to the side for comfort. Yet all there is next to me is yesterday’s letters promising you’ll be back.

Weeks rush by and months even faster. I don’t count them as the days I’ve been alone. I look at them as a race for my soldier’s return home.

We’re pieces of the same old puzzle living through the stamps we send each other.

No one told me it would be easy, keeping up with these pages.

Then again there are still those who do it to this day.

Leaving in November, you’ll take Fall as you go.

But you will always carry me in your heart and I carry you in mine.

That is what the others don’t know.