I hated to interrupt, but I did want to get on my way. “Um, that’s great, sir. Could you just tell me…”
He had no problem whatsoever interrupting me, “you know, I met my wife while home on leave from the Army during World War Two. She was already engaged to another man, but I stole her away. I didn’t feel right marrying her and leaving her a widow, so I asked her to wait for me. She sassed back that if I showed up around her again when I got back, if I got back alive, she might consider me a serious suitor. Until then, if I would provide her with my mailing address, she would write to me once a week.
And so she did. The loveliest letters. She never said she loved me. She would write to me about what she has eaten for dinner the night before, what she and her girlfriends were watching at the cinema, silly things that her brother or the family dog had done. Just all those little everyday details that made my service more bearable. Little reminders every week of why I was dirty and cold and eating food barely fit for dogs, it was for Sara and all the others like her.”