LOVE & LONGING in morse:

(Presented in a mix of personal letters and telegraph messages, the romance between a Union soldier stationed at a military outpost during the American Civil War and a telegraph operator working from a station in Washington, D.C.)

~~~

Washington, D.C.

December 2, 1862

Dearest Lieutenant James Thornton,

Your latest transmission reached me in the early hours, and I must confess—it was the only reason I smiled today. The city is cold, the war is colder, and yet your words, tapped through wire and static, warm me more than any FIRE.

You said in your last message that you wished you could see my face when I read your words. I shall tell you: I blushed, sir. Not from the cold, nor from the dim lantern light flickering over the telegraph machine, but because of YOU.

It is strange, isn’t it? We have never MET. Not truly. I know your voice only through dots and dashes, yet I feel I know your heart. Each message from you is a stolen moment of joy, a secret between two souls connected by mere wire and longing.

Tell me, dear sir—when this war ends, will you find me? Or shall we remain forever as two hands upon a KEY, speaking in SILENCE, never touching?

Yours in ink and impulse,

Clara Winslow

~~~

Telegraph Transmission – Military Outpost, Virginia

December 4, 1862

TO MISS CLARA WINSLOW, WASHINGTON TELEGRAPH STATION

-.-. .-.. .- .-. .- / -.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .- / .-. . .- ... --- -. / .. / ... -- .. .-.. . / .-- .... . -. / -.-- --- ..- / - .- .--. / .- -. ... .-- . .-. ... / - --- / -- -.-- / -- . ... ... .- --. . ... .-.-.-

(Translation: Clara, you are a reason I smile when you tap answers to my messages.)

.-- .. .-.. .-.. / .. / ..-. .. -. -.. / -.-- --- ..- ..--.. / --- .-. / .- -- / .. / -.. --- --- -- . -.. / - --- / --. . .- .-. / -.-- --- ..- / --- -. .-.. -.-- / - --- / .-.. --- ... . / -.-- --- ..- / .. -. / .-- .. .-. . / ..-. --- .-. . ...- . .-. ..--..

(Translation: Will I find you? Or am I doomed to hear you only to lose you in wire forever?)

~~~

Washington, D.C.

December 8, 1862

James,

I think you enjoy making my heart ache. You play your words like a violinist plays his strings—just enough sorrow to make it beautiful.

Do not think I will let you slip away into war and whispers without a fight. When you return to Washington, I will be waiting.

I shall wear a blue ribbon in my hair so you will know me. And if you do not come, then I shall tap my own message into the night:

.. / .- -- / .-- .- .. - .. -. --. .-.-.- / .-- .... . .-. . / .- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- ..--..

(Translation: I am waiting. Where are you?)

Come home, James. Find me.

Yours,

Clara

~~~

Telegraph Transmission – Military Outpost, Virginia

December 15, 1862

-.-. .-.. .- .-. .- --..-- / -.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / -- -.-- / .-- . .-.. .-.. --- ...- . -.. / .-- .. -. -.. / -... . -. . .- - .... / .- -. -.. / .-- .. .-. . / .- .-.. --- -. . / .- -. -. --- - .- -.-. .... . -.. / - --- / -- -.-- / ... --- ..- .-.. .-.-.-

(Translation: Clara, you are my well-loved WIND beneath and WIRE, alone attached to my SOUL.)

.--. .-. --- -- .. ... . / -.-- --- ..- / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / -. --- - / -- .. ... ... / -- . / ..-. --- .-. / .-.. --- -. --. . .-. / - .... .- -. / .- / .-.. .. ..-. . - .. -- . / --- ..-. / - ..- .-. -. . -.. / .-- .. .-. . / .- -. -.. / - . .- .-. ... .-.-.-

(Translation: Promise you will not miss me for longer than a lifetime of turned wire and tears.)

~~~

Washington, D.C.

January 2, 1863

Dearest James,

You did not come home.

I waited, my ribbon tied, my heart pounding like the clicking of the key, but the door to the station NEVER opened for you.

Instead, I received a message from the War Department. They informed me that your outpost fell to enemy fire on December 17th. They say you were brave. They say you fought valiantly. They say they are SORRY.

But they did not know you. They did not know how your words danced through wire like fireflies in the dark. They did not know how you made me laugh in the loneliest of NIGHTS.

They did not know that you once promised, in a string of hurried dashes, that no WAR, no DISTANCE, no FORCE of this world or the next could keep you from finding me. And yet, here I am, waiting.

And so, I will do what they cannot. I will write to you one last time.

.. / .- -- / .... . .-. . .-.-.- / .. / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / .-- .- .. - / .. -. / .-- .. .-. . / ..-. --- .-. / -.-- --- ..- .-.-.- / --- -. . / -.. .- -.-- / .. / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / ..-. --- .-.. .-.. --- .-- / -.-- --- ..- .-.-.- / .- -. -.. / .-- .... . -. / .. / -.. --- / .. / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / - .- .--. / .- --. .- .. -. ..--..

(Translation: I am here. I will wait in wire for you. One day I will follow you. And when I do, I will tap again?)

Yours forever,

Clara