At 76, I Discovered That My First Love Had Been Alive for More Than 50 Years—But When He Begged Me to Forgive Him, My Answer Broke His Heart
I was twenty-one years old when I fell in love with Thomas.
We were college sweethearts, the kind of young couple who believed love could survive anything. We spent our afternoons walking beneath the trees on campus, sharing cheap coffee, talking about the future, and making promises that seemed impossible to break.
Thomas wanted to become an engineer. I dreamed of teaching English. We had already chosen the names of our future children, argued playfully about where we would live, and imagined the little house we would buy after our wedding.
Then the Vietnam War took him away from me.
The night before he left, Thomas walked me to my parents’ front door. He held both my hands, trying to smile even though I could see the fear in his eyes.
