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The new resident
arrived at the nursing home, but John didn't notice. He was deep in
thought, in another time, a time so many years ago. What was her
name, that young girl, the one with the auburn hair and emerald
eyes? It was those eyes that had attracted his
attention.
John was eighteen
years old, fresh out of high school and just starting his first
job. It wasn't a job he had planned on doing for very long, just
long enough to earn the money to buy that old sports car he had
seen in the newspaper, the one with the red racing stripe. You see,
John wanted to be a racecar driver, and if he bought that sports
car he could enter it into the competitions that were held
on the weekends. Yes, those weekends he remembered well. He had
worked hard at that job and had finally earned enough money to
buy his car. Now he spent every weekend at the
racetrack.
He remembered his
very first race, well, maybe not, but he did remember her. He was
lined up and ready for his first drag race. He had revved the
engine and heated the tires and was ready to go. The
flag was held in position, ready to be waved frantically so the
race could begin. Then he saw the one who was holding the flag. She
was beautiful, no, more than beautiful. She was radiant, gorgeous,
with auburn hair and those eyes!! Those wonderful, dreamy, emerald
eyes! Well, that was the end of that race. The flag was waved, but
John just sat there. He was unaware that the car beside him had
left the starting line in a cloud of smoke. All he could see were
those eyes. The race, if you could call it that, was lost, but John
didn't care. He worked up the courage to ask those beautiful
emerald eyes for a date and she accepted. Those eyes must have been
something special, because John was a very, very shy guy and it
usually took him forever to work up the courage to ask a girl on
a date. But he had, and she had accepted and he was in
Heaven.
He remembered how
long it had taken him to get ready for that date. He took a
shower, shaved, combed his hair, took another shower, combed his
hair, put on deodorant and after-shave lotion, took another shower,
and then started all over again. He finally made it to his date.
Her name was Sally, Sally McPherson, but she pronounced it '
McPheerson'. Her parents had recently moved the family from
Scotland because times were tough and work was hard to find. They
believed that life in the New World would be much better and a
better life is what they wanted for their Sally. Now he was
standing on her doorstep with a bouquet of flowers in his hand and
his heart was racing.
The first date with
Sally was wonderful, as was the second and third. John thought that
maybe he was falling in love. Sally was certain that she was. And
then it happened. News of war had broken out and all the young men
were being called upon to protect and fight for their country. John
was of the right age and the notice came in his mailbox and he had
to go. Telling Sally was the hardest thing he had to do. There were
tears and crying and more tears. They held onto each other like
they were glued together, but the tears would eventually soften the
glue and they would say their goodbyes. There were promises made
that each would wait for the other and that they would write every
day. And then John drove away. If he had looked into the rearview
mirror, he would have seen Sally mouthing the words, "I love you,
John."
For the first while
the letters came on a regular basis. John wrote every day and so
did Sally. But war is tough and as it continued the letters slowed.
John was down to writing a letter every second day, and then every
second month and finally he stopped writing altogether. Sally, on
the other hand, continued her daily letters, but John was
transferred from one unit to another, then another and another.
Letters were written and forwarded, then misplaced and lost. All
communication ceased and their lives continued on separate
paths.
After the war John
found a job in civilian life, married and raised a family. Sally
never did marry, for John was her one and only love and she pined
for him year after year. She continued to write her letters, but
they were no longer mailed. She dreamed of the day they would be
reunited and lived every day for that moment. What started as a
wish and a dream became an obsession, an obsession of a broken
heart. Life never got any better for Sally and she grew old alone
and lonely.
Today she moved into
a nursing home. Life had been a bitter pill and now she had nothing
to look forward to except more loneliness in a place of
strangers.
The car engine
roared to life on the television screen and John jumped at the
sound, sending his mind back to the present. It was Friday night at
the nursing home and he looked forward to it every week. Friday
night was Race Night and Channel Nine was showing clips of drag
races from the past. He watched with intent as the announcer
introduced the race. The flag was raised and held into position; -
then he saw her. She was sitting in the corner of the room
pretending to show interest with what was on the screen. Her hair
was white, with a hint of blue, caused by using Mrs. Stewart's
Bluing. Her face was pale and drained, but it was those eyes,
emerald green and beautiful. It was Sally. John sat there watching
her, unaware that the race had started. It was as if he had been
transported to an earlier time. The race no longer mattered. He
didn't care who won or who lost, for those emerald eyes once again
mesmerized him. For a while Sally didn't notice him watching her.
Her eyes were looking at the television screen, but her mind was
reliving the past, the first time she had met him, their first date
and the few dates after that. Then she recalled how he had broken
the news that he had been drafted into the war. She remembered the
tears and the crying and as the cars sped away on the television
screen, it was as if she were watching John driving away to be gone
forever.
"Who is that?" she
wondered, as John got up from his chair and walked back to his
room. Race Night was over now and John was feeling more weary than
usual. Seeing Sally there tonight had brought back so many feelings
and he wanted more than ever to rally his courage to talk with her
and ask her on another date, but not tonight. Now Sally knew it was
John and she hoped that he had noticed her. Oh, how she wished that
he would talk with her. She felt like a giddy teenaged girl once
again, but she knew better. What would he want with an old woman
like her?
The next day John
woke with new enthusiasm. He felt younger than he had in years.
Today he would talk with Sally. But would she remember him, and if
she did, would she still be interested after all this time? He
walked to the television lounge and saw her sitting in the chair in
the corner of the room. He pretended not to notice her, but those
emerald eyes were looking in his direction. She was waiting,
hoping, just like she had done for so many years. Would he come
back to her; would he approach and talk with her today? But John
didn't approach her today. He had tried, but his shyness took ahold
of him and he also felt guilty for not continuing to write to her
during the war. Maybe tomorrow.
Something was wrong. John walked
to the television lounge, determined that he would talk with Sally
today, try to explain why he had quit writing to her during the
war, tell her how he felt and hope she would respond in kind. But
Sally wasn't in the corner chair today. The nurse said that she had
passed away in the middle of the night, and as she breathed her
last breath, she thought she heard her whisper, "I love you, John."
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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