My Dearest Joaquim,
I realize it has been quite a long time since last we spoke. If I recall correctly, you came to my family’s home for a dinner party when you were visiting your sister next door. Martha played a lively rendition of “Chattanooga Choo Choo” on the piano. Do you remember? What a jolly time that was.
I must confess I write you today for reasons quite serious. I heard last week from your sister that your regiment had been sent overseas and upon hearing the news, I was quite beside myself.
Since we met a year ago, we have not spent much time together, but I cherish deeply the few words we have exchanged. I find you to be the most thoughtful and charming man that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. As soon as I heard the news you were in Germany, I fretted all day and night for six days. My mother was so worried for me, I think she must believe I’ve gone ‘round the bend. Now here I am writing this letter and my hands are shaking so much I can hardly keep the pen steady. I have been so confused, so many thoughts stirring in my head, but there is one thing that I know for certain. I fear greatly that while you are in Germany, fighting for our freedom back here in the homeland, you should perish from some fatal wound and I shall never get the chance to tell you it.
I love you.
There are no words to describe the fiery passion for you that lives in my heart. Each day it burns away a little more of my morale. My love for you grows a little more each day, just like the plants in my Victory Garden. It started out as a small bean sprout, but now it is a strong, mighty sugar snap pea plant. There are enough beans here to sustain the whole U.S. Navy (but I shall not share them with anyone but you). I hope that when you finally return, it will be with an equal metric volume of beans for me. I can only imagine how tender and savory they will taste on our palates when they are mixed together into a deliciously HETEROgeneous bean salad, which we will partake of, intertwined in each other’s arms, lying in a heart-shaped bed with 500-thread-count cotton sheets (because silk isn’t vegan), the windows open to allow a fresh, salty sea breeze to waft into the estate, causing the soy-silken (again, my love, because I’m vegan) canopy hanging above our loving entwine to gently ruffle over our sweaty, bean-filled bodies.
I fear I shall not get a minute of sound sleep until I hear back from you, knowing that you are safe and healthy. Please return my correspondence A.S.A.P.
I have enclosed for you three bags of your favorite cereal and local, organic, pesticide-free honeycomb to tide you over for the time being. I know that small comforts are hard to come by in the trenches. I only hope that while you savor your treats, you think of me.
Please take care.
With all my love,