we keep this love in a photograph

Chapter 34

Dear Rosie,

It's been three and a half months since you left, and yet it feels like a lifetime. But hey, at least we're over a third of the way through it (look at that optimism) and we're still standing strong. It's been a close call more times than I like to think about, but you've put this stupid thing people like to call hope inside me and now I'm clinging to the day you eventually come home, because it's a day I know will come. It's the only thing that's getting me through this - the thought of seeing you again, holding you again, is the only thing I can think of these days.

I think of you all the time, and all the things you've told me. I know we get to talk almost every day, and that nothing in these letters will be surprising to you, only that I have so much worry that comes out in word vomit whenever I sit down to write to you. It keeps me sane, being able to say what neither of us are willing to say on the phone. I love those light-hearted (for the most part) talks where we pretend you're okay and you tell me about work as if you were as safe as you could possibly be. I like getting to tell you that my stomach doesn't hurt, even though I pulled the stitches twice and haven't felt like myself in weeks, because it makes it easier to make the most of what precious few minutes we have.

I wonder - how much do you really hide from me, in calls and letters? It's enough to keep me up at night. Of all the awful things you've told me, I think that's just the surface. It frightens me that there are things that you can't talk about - you, who have always spoken your mind, of all people. It makes my heart ache and it's why I can't help but put it here in writing because I don't have it in me to ask you when we speak: don't go back. Don't reenlist. I think it'll break my heart if you do, even if you were wrapped up in bubble wrap the entire time and never had to go back overseas. Even working from base is more than I can bear when the possibility is there. It might be selfish and you might hate me for it one day, but you asked me to tell you what to do, so I'll ask you now. Don't do it. I don't know what to do without you anymore.

It's strange that now, after so many years of loneliness, and being surrounded by more people than I ever have before, I feel lonelier than ever. I miss your loud laugh, I miss your warmth and I miss your brown eyes. I could list everything about you, from your freckles to your scars and the way you trip over your words and the optimistic drive that never wavers, but I think it would be too long to fit in a letter. Truthfully, I love everything about you. I've always thought it was childishly naive to have that view of someone, that romance films were just some sham but you've turned me into a believer. I'm annoyed at you for that; I vowed to always be bitter and alone and look what you've turned me into. Love letters? I can hardly recognise myself through all the sappiness.

I think maybe I'm just missing you a little bit extra today. Mostly it's because I'm thinking of your birthday, which is coming up in a couple of weeks, and how you won't be here for it. It's the first one to celebrate since we met each other and it makes me sad to think about how we're missing out on so much with you being over there. Our first Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year. Valentine's Day too, if you're not home before then too. It's silly to focus on things that don't really matter, but I think about what I've missed out on before and how I'm actually looking forward to them now, and I wish you could be there too to make them perfect.

I've never had to put so much effort into buying someone a gift before, but I don't think something flashy is going to impress you much. You deserve thoughtfulness and care and something picked out specially for you. I hope you like it when you get to open it; I hope you get to put it to good use one day. You have to come home for that though, so just focus on that. Make sure you get enough rest and eat enough. You look more exhausted and tanned every time we talk - I'll hardly recognise you when you're back at this rate. I'm sure I'll love my Rosie the same no matter what, so just look after yourself. Please.

I miss you. I love you. Jennie x