When the Hardships of Live are Endured by Love’s Soft Touch

Decades ago, in my first marriage, there was a time when we were dirt poor.  We had an infant to care for and, at that time, I was serving time with the US Navy, while my wife lived with my parents.  It was a period in my life when the separation was hard on each of us, both psychologically and emotionally.  We were young adults and yet, we weren't.   We had taken up the responsibilities of a family, but having to live with my parents, we did not have the freedom as such.

It was in the month of March that I was to go back to my assignment on a small isolated island in Alaska.  To a remote outpost that had no women, no trees, and little sunshine.  A piece of rock that had been abandoned by the Army at the end of World War Two and taken over by the Navy.  Quite often, in the twilight, a white ship would exit the island's harbor 15 miles south and sail quietly north by our installation.  Its eeriness was accentuated by the fading light and the gigantic satellite dishes that adorned its decks.  The vessel's name was the Vandenberg and it always seemed to depart in the evening, but you never knew what it did.  It's not that you didn't have ideas as to its mission, but we weren't necessarily on that island to just watch the bald eagles feed at the base landfill.  We were just a few hundred miles from the Kamchatka Peninsula of Russia and our expertise was in the field of communication.

However, back home, it was a time, when my wife and I were under a lot of pressure.  For me, it was the thought of having to leave my family behind again.  For her, it was the reality that we did not have the financial resources to provide her an apartment while I was gone.  Yet, we were taking it pretty much in stride, apart from the tense conversations we had during those few days before my return to Alaska. 

Finally, during the last evening, we could not take it any longer.  The tension from knowing that separation was the next day, was taking its toll.  In the middle of a conversation, she would break out in tears and it was very difficult for me to keep my composure seeing her fall apart over my coming departure. I knew that we didn't have the money for a motel, which would have provided us a little time alone together.  A time to touch, to hold, and embrace in our own little haven of love.  However, without that option we had to do something to lessen the anxieties which raged within us. 

The night was wet, yet not that cold for March.  A heavy drizzle was depositing moisture into the ground, bringing life back into its dormant soil.  In fact, all that day, the weather had switched from showers to drizzle and back to showers, melting what little snow that was still on the ground.  I grabbed an umbrella as we donned our winter coats and asked my folks to watch over our infant son Jay, while we went for a walk.

There are so many times we are placed in a position of stress.  It can be from work, or school, or children, or each other, but there are always ways to relieve that man made misery.  Some turn to drink or drugs, others to books, and still others escape within themselves.  In our case, it was to be a leisurely stroll down a rain soaked sidewalk.

As we slowly made our way up the concrete pathway our bodies were close, but there was a coolness that had been between us for the last couple of days. Even with the warm coats, our bodies did not touch.  The conversations were short and impersonal, as if only going through the motions.  The sentences surrounded the matters of the moment and nothing else as the drizzle returned to a light rain.

The talk drifted off as we sidled past my old elementary school.  Its windows reflecting the Mercury lights lining the street outside its chain linked fence and at that moment, I stopped our walk.  There was very little traffic while walking the past six or seven blocks and it was here that I had decided to try to set the mood for our final evening together.  I laid the umbrella against the fence and gently grabbed her hands from her pockets and held them warmly in mine.  I looked into her dark brown eyes and could see, in the subdued light, her eyes were again watering up.   I slowly leaned over and gave her a long kiss.  Then I pulled a tissue out of my pocket and lightly wiped her eyes.  There are times when you can say you love someone without ever saying a word. 

We stared into each others eyes for what seemed like years, but lasted less than a minute, and then embraced.  It was a hold that reaffirmed our commitment to each other and our small family at home, and we both knew that we would endure this separation.   In those few minutes, the light rain continued to fall upon our unprotected heads and small droplets of water glistened atop our hair under those mercury lights

I picked up the umbrella and we resumed our walk into the darkness, our arms and hands embraced as we made our way down a nearby hill.  During the rest of the walk, we did not talk, but held hands and listened to the light rain spatter upon the top of our canvas shield.  A few cars passed by on the street, their tires hissing as they separated the watery surface beneath their tread.   Yet, we were the only ones on foot.  Alone with each other, impervious to the world at large and the surroundings about us.  In our minds, there was no rain, no cold, no cars, no streetlights; just that flame of love and companionship connected by two clasped hands upon a sidewalk leading us into the dark unknown.

The walk lasted a little more than an hour, but has endured for years in my memory.  Even now, I see us alone, walking across the third street viaduct and up the hill past houses with faint lights in their windows as the bare branches of trees eerily hung overhead.  Funny how a rain, umbrella, and two people walking can bond a relationship that could last a lifetime.  From that night, I loved my wife more than ever before, and ever would again.

Daryl A. Cleveland

Originally written March 12, 2005