Part 13… He’s Back

I did not anticipate being notified of Boyd’s return from a phone call. It was evening and I was at work. I answered the phone and there was his voice. His actual voice. He was back in the United States. The plane of wounded soldiers had landed at a base in California. The next day he would be flown to Fitzsimmons Military Hospital in Denver, Colorado.

I hung up the surprising phone call thinking he’s back, he is really back. I raced down the halls of the nursing home, where I worked, telling everyone who’d listen “he’s back” and “I’m going to see him.” There was this great sense of unreality.

I was going to Denver and we’d be together. I had no idea of the medical challenges ahead. I didn’t care if he had a leg or not, we were going to get to start again. I began making my plans. I knew there was a train that left Illinois in the evening and would get me to Denver midday the next day. I decided I’d take the train the next night which meant only two days until I saw him.

The hardest part of the train ride was having no one to talk to. I wanted to share my joy with the whole wide world and here I was sitting in a seat with a book and hours to occupy myself before reaching Denver. If only some friendly soul had made eye contact, I would have been off and running with my story of reuniting with my love.

My aunt and uncle lived in Denver, not too far from Fitzsimmons which gave us wonderful family support. In fact, the day Boyd arrived they visited him and took him his first ever Whopper. The next day I arrived.

My uncle picked me up from the train. We stopped at the state capital and I applied for a transfer of my nursing license to Colorado. I found an apartment in the same building where my aunt and uncle lived. I was more than ready to explore the adventure of living in Denver. I spent every minute I could with Boyd during my visit then returned to Illinois, packed up my belongings, got in my gold mustang and headed west.

Life was good, he was alive and he was back.