Letters of the Heart

Chapter 1 (Charlie)

I remember growing up listening to stories my Grandpa used to tell me about the war. He never gave gory details, but he would give us some intel on what happened overseas. There were also things he never wanted to talk about, including why he received a Purple Heart, and we never pushed him.

He went through a lot, between losing his closest friends and even his leg. Again, he never talked much about those moments. When he would bring up little details about his time at war, he would drift off to another quiet memory that would bring him to tears. I could always tell when he was finished talking about war and that was when he got quiet and would hide his tears.

My favorite war story of his was how he talked about my Grandmother and her letters. He would light up telling us about how her letters gave him hope. She would write him all the time, telling him about life back here and their newborn.

They married just before he was sent away. They met in high school and have loved each other deeply ever since. Honestly, their love for one another was something I used to daydream about. I wanted to have a love like theirs. I wanted to find someone who truly cared for me, and that was hard.

It always warmed my heart to hear his stories of her. She passed when I was in Middle school, and that was hard on everyone, especially him. I spent most of my time with her, learning to cook and sew. She would even teach me how to crochet from time to time.

I loved helping her out with anything she asked. Whether it was feeding the chickens, or tending the garden, any time spent with her was always worth it. She loved my grandfather deeply, but she also loved her family just as much.

Hearing their story and how her letters brought Grandpa through, inspired me to write to the marines and soldiers. I started after she died, and continued into high school and college. When I received letters back, that was always my favorite part.

I think the part I liked the best about writing the military men was when they'd send me a letter back talking about their families and their lives before they enlisted. Most of the time I would only write a couple of letters to the same people, but over the years I had found myself writing to one man in particular. Beau Connors.

Beau was a couple of years older than me, and he graduated from a couple of towns over. We had never met in person but by how much we have written each other, it felt like we had. He was one of the few who would write back, and I was just drawn to him.

At first, it was simple and we'd write about current events. Then as the years went by, we were getting to know each other more. I found out when he graduated and somehow obtained an old yearbook from his alma mater. That's how I got an idea of what he looked like. Let's say he was very attractive in high school.

I think deep down I had fallen in love with a ghost man. No one but Beatrice, my little sister, knew we would write to each other. She loved getting to read the letters with me. It was like opening up a gift at Christmas. She has always known my feelings for him, but I knew it would never go anywhere.

He was one of the reasons I haven't dated. That and I just never could bring myself to want to date anyone. So here I am at twenty-six, having never been kissed or dated, and I was ok with that. A part of me held hope that Beau would come home and find me just to tell me he'd been in love with me for years just as I have been with him. But that hope was small.

Honestly, deep down I feared that he would get one look at me and run. I mean I wasn't the type of girl most guys dreamed of. I was chubby and not the type to dress immodestly. I've never been comfortable in my own body, and that would be another reason I've never kissed or dated anyone. When everyone was telling me to lose weight if I wanted to get a boyfriend, or that I would be prettier if I lost about fifty pounds, it was hard to love myself.