Dear G,

I’m writing to you from the plane, somewhere in the sky between America and Vietnam. I’ve never flown across the ocean before. I’m trying really hard not to think of how far I am off the water.

After I left you, I made it to Bethel and had a shower there, thankful I didn’t have to sit on a bus in the state I was in. I looked a mess, and I was pretty sure no bus driver would’ve wanted me on their bus looking or smelling the way I did. I got to wash my clothes in New York City. I’ve never seen a place like it. I thought there were a lot of people at Woodstock but boy, was I wrong. It was an amazing city, and I’d like to get back there one day. I saw LA from the air and the army barracks. I’d like to see more of it one day too.

Which brings me to your request. A list of all the things I’d like to do when I get back. Okay, so here goes:

I’d like to spend more time in big cities. New York would be nice, but I don’t think it would matter much where it was. As long as I was with you.

I want to try new things. Food I wouldn’t normally eat, restaurants I wouldn’t normally go to, movies I wouldn’t normally watch, books I wouldn’t think to read.

I want to go hiking like you mentioned.

I want to see other things I’ve never seen before.

I want to put my feet in the Pacific Ocean.

I want a job where I make a difference. Not on my dad’s farm. I want more from life than that.

I wanted you to know how much this last weekend meant to me. I’m so used to being miserable on the inside, not being true to myself. But you showed me a whole world I never knew existed. You showed me where I’m supposed to belong. By taking a chance and saying hello to me in that diner, you changed my life, and I’ll be forever grateful.

I’d also like to do a whole lot more of what we did in your tent. I want to hear all about what you do at college and your dreams for the future. I want to know everything about you.

Well, this got kind of long, sorry. We’re flying into an airbase near Saigon, and from there to some undisclosed location. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to write next or how often, but I will try. I made a promise to write and I intend to keep it.

They gave us all a slip with our postal addresses on it. I’ll add it to the envelope for you. I don’t expect anyone else to write, so you may as well have it. I have no idea what to expect when we land. There’s talk that we’re heading north, but I can’t say for sure. Just so you know, I’m in the C Company, 5^th battalion, 3rd platoon.

I can’t deny that I’m scared. But I will see this through, and when I get back, we can see about making a start on this list. The funny thing is, I wasn’t sure if I ever intended to come back. Not saying I came here to die, but if that did happen, well… it might have been an easier way out instead of living life in hell. But now, I don’t have to live a life pretending to be somebody I’m not. Those three short days when I was with you was the freest I have ever been. And it’s been a long time since I’ve looked forward to anything, but I’m excited about what life might be like when I get back.

I haven’t even arrived and I’m already thinking about leaving.

I hope you can find time to write back. And I hope you don’t mind I signed this letter to G. Just in case the wrong eyes read it. I know you understand.

Yours,

R