Dear James,
I cannot stop looking at the ring on my finger.
Remember how Mary always wanted a diamond on platinum, with two rubies on either side? We always asked her how Luke would afford such a thing, and she’d sniff and go into a huff.
Your ring might only be small, with a tiny crystal on bronze, but it’s all shiny and polished and it’s so very beautiful. You said something when I saw you on the train, something about how you’d give me a diamond ring when you are rich, but don’t be silly. I don’t want a diamond ring, or a manor house.
I want you to come back safe and sound, that’s all I ask.
I pray every night for your safe return.
It’s so beautiful, isn’t it? This ring. What it means.
Oh, the romance of it!
Why couldn’t I have married you on your leave? My cousin is a clergyman, he could have married us quickly and I’d be your wife now.
I can hear you asking the difference between what we are and husband and wife.
The very simple thing is that we are joined. If you die, heaven forbid it, I will be your widow. I will be given leave to mourn you, and no one will be able to tell me to marry again for a long time. Don’t you see, I will not be able to move on if you die. I shall wear black for the rest of my days and become a nun.
But if God lets you die, then I suppose I shan’t be a nun.
The ring is catching the light through the window now, and the crystal is glimmering.
So beautiful.
Be very careful, James.
Love,
Rose xxxxx
YOU ARE READING
«letters to the somme»
Ficción Generala patchwork of letters and telegrams and shorts telling the story of a girl and a boy who are caught in the crossfire of the first world war. all through the heartache and the pain and the blood comes a gleam of hope, of peace. commemorating the ce...
