One Last Letter

Sometimes love takes an unexpected path

- MARCI & JOHN SEITHER Vista, California

MARCI: In high school, I spent my summers in the foothills of the Sierras with my grandmother, in a little town near Yosemite National Park called Bass Lake. My freshman year, I went along with her church on a mission trip to Mexico. That’s how I met John. Sitting by the campfire, strumming our guitars, John made me laugh. Made me feel special. He was three years older than me, just weeks away from joining the Marines. I hated to see the weekend.

A year later, I was at church in Bass Lake with my grandmother and John walked in. He looked so different with his military buzz cut. We spent the afternoon together and before he left, he gave me his address and hugged me so close I could feel both our hearts beating.

“Someday I will come back for you,” he whispered.

That night, I pulled out my prettiest stationery and wrote him a letter.

JOHN: I didn’t expect a letter from Marci. Or anybody. Getting that envelope during mail call at Camp Pendleton was a shock. A lot of people only pretended to care, then forgot about you. Alcohol and my parents’ divorce had all but destroyed my family. That was a big reason why I joined the Marines, to escape, to do something I could be proud of and get some order in my life.

I tore the letter open. Slowly read every word about Marci’s life in high school, a movie she’d gone to, the song she was learning on the guitar. She had all these questions about the Marines.

I wrote her back as soon as I could. I didn’t want to rush it, though. I wanted the words to be perfect.