Rocking Back and Forth

                Things in life are both happy and sad. It’s all about perspective. I try to look at all events and find the good that will come out of them. In some respects I am a Pollyanna, but I don’t see that as being a negative or even a naïve feature. I think my “Pollyannaness” stems from my wanting to make crazy situations seem more bearable, and even normal.

 In that chaotic Summer of 1968 I had been devastated by the death of my personal hero, Robert Kennedy, whom I had interned and then worked with for a number of years. When he was shot I was shocked and stricken with grief.  So, I started to look at the positives of the time Mr. Kennedy had had on this Earth.

                When I arrived at Mitch’s house that evening I did not come in my usual empty-handed, shorts and tee-shirt fashion. I arrived in a white skirt, a black blouse and sandals. My arms full of homemade muffins, cookies, flowers and a teddy bear with a note. I had taped the note to the hand of the bear so it would look as though he was presenting the letter to Mitch, and not me. As I approached the door I arranged the many items in my arms so that they would not fall and carefully opened the door. When I stepped inside they were all gathered around the kitchen table, laughing and eating. Mitch immediately stood up and walked to me. He helped remove the items from my arms before giving me a hug and kiss, after which he looked at the items that he had removed. The baked goods delighted him and the bear with the note made him smile. Luckily, his mother, Bonnie loved the flowers and immediately stuck them in a vase. He then introduced me to the new family members sitting at the table, his grandma, Granny, and his uncle, George.

                That night, when the sun had set, we lit the two candles so that the red-orange flames glistened against the brown polished wood of the dining room table. The starlight rushed in from the large window and flowed over us. They chanted familiar words in an unfamiliar tune as I hummed along, rocking back and forth on my heels and adjusting my skirt.

The group then turned their attention to the silvery glow of the wine fountain at the end of the table. Mitch picked up the largest cup and filled it to the brim with red-purple liquid. Once the glass was full he poured it into the fountain. I watched in delight as the spouts spurted the liquid into smaller cups. Everyone, including myself took a cup. Then they chanted more familiar words in an even more unfamiliar tune and I rocked on my heels while humming along. When the tune was over we all drank down the sweet and sour red-purple liquid, chilling our throats on the way down. We then turned to Bonnie who carried out a large golden braid of bread. One last time they chanted, I hummed and we ate.

I took my place next to Mitch and across from Nicole, Mitch’s sister. Bonnie served a variety of meat cooked by her husband Maxwell. Maxwell, being the “man of the house” sat at the head seat and passed around plates of meat, corn and vegetables. I politely placed two chicken drumsticks on my plate beside a piece of corn. I tried to eloquently cut the meat off the bone and they all stared. I explained that my grandparents, who had had a big hand in raising me, were British and very strict about table manners. I told them that by the age of four I knew how to “properly” use a fork and knife. Granny understood and told me that fingers were perfectly acceptable utensils at this house. I smiled and picked up the slimy, fatty chicken leg with my fingers and slowly lifted it to my mouth. As I took a bite the meat feel clear off the bone. The meal was filled with conversation, jokes and a bitter sweetness.

As the meal finished, everyone sat while Granny and Bonnie cleared the table, a practice that would never be tolerated in my home. I made the mistake of trying to clear my own place but was told to relax and wait for them to finish clearing. Suddenly, the tantalizing idea of having a grandmother stereotype overwhelmed me with joy.

When Bonnie and Granny had finished clearing dinner they brought out tea, pie and watermelon. I placed a thick, juicy piece of the pink-red watermelon and put it on my plate beside my steaming cup of chai tea. The aroma of the chai slowly drifted into my nose. I picked up the big piece of watermelon and took a large bite. I immediately tasted onion. Evidently Mitch had made the mistake of cutting the watermelon on the cutting board that Bonnie had used for the onions we had eaten with the main course. When we had finished eating Granny left and took her son George, along with some leftovers, with her.

Nicole, Mitch and I went into the kitchen to unload and reload the dishwasher. It took us an hour to decipher where Bonnie wanted everything to go. When we were done, we went upstairs to Mitch’s bedroom and began what Nicole called the “roll and pack.” The roll and pack was designed to save Mitch as much space in his suitcase as he needed. Maxwell, Nicole, Mitch and I gathered in Mitch’s room to pull out the enormous stacks of clothing we needed to roll and pack. We rolled and packed shirts, shorts, pants, boxers and pajamas. All the clothing fit neatly into Mitch’s oversized duffle. However, Mitch felt that it was essential that he bring playing cards, a Frisbee, some books and, of course, the teddy bear I had given him earlier in the evening. When the duffels were zipped Maxwell and Nicole left the room.

Mitch and I sat on his bed holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes. We did not have to say anything to each other; we both knew there would be no more perfect moment than this. After an hour of our laying together Mitch proposed an idea and I agreed. We loaded his duffel into my car along with a blanket and went to the lake where we had our first kiss a few months before. We lay down on the blanket holding hands and looking at the large night sky. We traced constellations with our fingers and dissolved into each other’s arms. That moment seemed magical and everlasting.

“You know, I could just stay this way…forever?” Mitch said, while adjusting his arm around my waist.

“Me too, honey,” I said, tears streaming down my face.

            It was almost dawn, which meant that it was time for us to go. We drove back to Mitch’s house and snuck up to his room, pretending we had been sleeping there all night. We lay down on the bed snuggling under the warm covers and after a few hours we were woken up by the slimy tongue of Mitch’s dog Rascal.

We then proceeded down to the breakfast table for our last meal together; things were not like they were last night. There was no conversation, no laughing and no jokes. Nicole, Maxwell, Mitch, Bonnie and I sat and ate in complete silence, other than the occasional noise or two from Rascal, swiftly followed by “Rascal, NO!” The soft clanking of silverware on plates was the only thing to break the silence.

After cleaning up the table we knew it was time to go. We got in my car and left. On the first leg of the two-hour drive, Mitch and I were unable to speak. The air in the car felt denser than any place I had ever been in my life. Then Mitch broke the silence.

“I don’t want you to worry about me,” he said.

“Of course I’ll worry. I just won’t write that to you,” I replied. “Honey, you seem distant, are you alright?”

“I guess I’m just nervous, but who isn’t? I just don’t know what to expect once I’m there. I could just be boxing and playing cards all day, but it could be much different.”

“Please write me and tell me what it’s like. I want to feel as if I am there with you.”

“Babe, I want you to know something before I go. Something to make you think about me until I get back.”

“What is it, Mitch?”

“When I come home, twelve months from now, I want to marry you.”

After that I didn’t know what to say. Stunned silent, I kept focus on the road. I knew we were only a little while away. “I’m sorry, you want to what?”

“I want to marry you.”

And as if by magic, as he finished his last syllable, we arrived at the army base. It was a desolate area drowned by army jeeps, soldier huts and new recruits. I looked at Mitch for a while and he looked at me.

“I want to marry you too,” was all I could say. We kissed one last time and he got of the car and waved goodbye as he headed into the unknown jungles of Vietnam, only with a duffle of old clothes to comfort him.

*                      *                      *

We had been writing to each other for almost eleven months and had shared in each other’s daily lives. I felt as though I was there with him and as the eleventh month drew closer I knew that there would only be one month left until I saw him again. But one day the letter did not come. Then a week had gone by, no word from Mitch. At the end of the week I went to Mitch’s house to ask Bonnie  if she had gotten a letter from him. She told me she hadn’t and we exchanged looks of horror and worry.

 Just then we heard a knock on the door, and it was a sight we had been dreading for a week. It was a man from the army in uniform carrying a folded flag, dog tags and a diamond ring. As the soldier saluted and walked off we collapsed to the floor and cried together for Mitch, we cried for the time we lost and we cried to mourn the family that would never be.

Things in life are both happy and sad. I try to find the positive in everyday craziness to make life seem more bearable and more normal. I was sad that I had lost Mitch, but I was glad that I had him when I did.