Heartbreak - Anthology

1942 | The Last Letter to Iowa

1942 | The Last Letter to Iowa 

by @lepus_leporis

Dear Eddie,

Do you remember when we met?

It was a Tuesday, Tuesday the seventh of February, and your letter was meant for your grandmother instead.

But somehow it came to me, because we have the same first name and similar-enough addresses and I wrote back to you saying I'm sorry but I couldn't manage to find where your letter was meant to go.

Do you remember what you wrote about?

Pigs. You were farming pigs in Iowa with your four brothers and two sisters, and you wanted to tell Grandmother Mary about it but the wrong Mary ended up with your letter and I had to write you a letter in return.

Do you remember what I said?

I didn't plan my words very carefully. I didn't think I'd hear from you again. I said hello, I'm Mary but not the Mary you wanted to write to. I said there's probably a million other Marys in New York. I said I'd never seen a pig before but they sound good enough but I'd really hate to be a farmer, and I thought that would be the end of it.

Do you remember how many more letters you sent me?

One-hundred seventy. One nearly every week and an extra for each of the two birthdays I celebrated with you.

You wanted to hear about my sisters and my parents and how I wanted to be a math teacher. You wanted to tell me about your pigs and dogs and the lake you swim in in the summertime. We found out we both like watching sunrises, but you're envious that I get to see them here in New York first.

How did we love each other if we never even met?

How did we plan to meet someday—some day soon but not now, because we have to wait until the war is over—and live somewhere between New York and Iowa, we chose Ohio, and we'd have some children and perhaps we'd have some pigs too, and I'd plant flowers and you'd drive a green truck and we'd name our first son after you and our first daughter after my second-grade teacher.

How did we pretend that life was promised?

Do you remember when you were drafted?

I don't. I don't because I don't know, I only remember that your letter was late and I didn't know why, and it was a Thursday when I heard from you again, and you said you'd be going off to some battleship somewhere and that you'd be back soon and not to worry and that you loved me very much.

And the next letter was from your sister Jenny and I didn't have to guess why.

Hello, Jenny.

I'm writing this part of my letter to you now because you're the one who'll read this. I'm writing to you and it's the last letter I'll send to Iowa because I'm sorry but you're not the one I want to talk to.

It's a waste of stamps to write letters to the dead.

Mary