The Lake

I remember when we were together at this lake. Just us. Living and breathing serenity and perfection. He was sailing, I was reading. We fished a bit. It was marvelous—it really was. But that was last summer. It’s strange, really, not knowing where he is now. It’s strange not hearing his voice every day, not seeing his face in the reflection of the water next to mine.
We spent the whole summer at that lake. We barely came up for air. Every day, riding our bikes side by side, we’d hastily make our way to the lake. Sometimes we’d bring friends with us. Sometimes we’d throw parties. It was like our home, that lake. It was never-ending joy and blue skies all the time. He was for me. Completely. And I was his. I thought it was forever.
August 1^st, 1942 marked an end to forever for a young smitten girl and her mate. One summer. One summer and then his father got to him. They need you, son. Your country needs you. I can still hear his words. I cried…for hours. He didn’t notice. The guilt, maybe, blinded him, or duty, or country, or his friends who’d already enlisted. Or, I don’t know what. It was our summer, though, and it was over.
Serenity and perfection became pain and separation. He swore he’d write. And he did. Seven months overseas. He was my soldier. My love. Mine forever. When I got the news, I was devastated, understandably. I’d never felt like that before. It felt as thought I was the one who’d been shot. Not him. I should’ve been dying, not my love. I was dying. I did. I died that day.
I keep expecting him to push me in the water. Sitting beside this lake right now, I’m waiting to feel him behind me and hear his beautiful laughter. But he’s not here. He’ll never be here. I can’t tell you of the pain. You’d never know what I meant. I can only say that I’m dead to all things now, just like my love. My soldier with those shining eyes and curly locks, my soldier is a soldier no more.
I used to pray that prayer. Take him out of the battle, Lord. He shouldn’t fight anymore. They say “be careful what you pray for.” I should’ve been. I should’ve thought. I didn’t mean it this way, my God. You should’ve known. You shouldn’t have done this.
I’ll never forgive myself. I should’ve done things differently and this wouldn’t have happened. This lake is forgiveness to me now, as I sink in. It’s forgiveness as I struggle for breath, and don’t come up for air.
I remember when we were together at this lake. Now we’ll be together again. My soldier and I. Together forever.