Candy

Even today, I don't know her exact age. She was as old as Mt. Fuji, and young as the first cherry-blossom of Spring. In years, we were close, in knowledge, hardships, and personal anguish, she was of the ages. She never talked of family, or even what part of Japan she was from. I never knew her real name.

We drifted apart, I met and married another Japanese lady. (No, not one from the night, but her sister was). We had a son in Japan, and conceived a daughter. After we left Japan, I had one more year of service. I parked my family in GA with my parents, and served the last year on sea duty. I did a West Pac tour, took leave to be with my In-laws, and also took some gullible young men to shake Satchiko's hand. What a blast, and ironically, Candy was working for Satchiko.

We spent many hours just talking. It totally floored me that she not only knew I had married, but she also knew of my children. She was lots stronger than I, but let me tell you it was a long, long, voyage back to the States.

I never saw, or heard from her again. She was my first, and first real love also. There is a place in my heart where only she lives.

The End