The Summer of 1969

A Forget-Me-Not from the love I'll never forget,

I met you near Ashbury Street. The vibe was jovial as the people danced around with one another. Every five minutes, people handed flowers to us. Putting the daisies in my silky hair. If you love love, San Francisco is the place to be. I did not expect to feel so much love for people that I met. Until I seen you. Your tall and toned body. Your hair was flowing and the color of mahogany. My brown eyes met your hazel green. It was love at first sight and not even the hazy fog can stop me from seeing the love of my life. Yet suddenly...the fog lifted. There you were walking towards me. You were moving your way towards me. I stayed in place because I wanted you to come towards me. The sun shined on you like an angel. My...angel. I had to know your name.

"Who are you?" I said, breathlessly. My heart was beating fast. I have never felt this sensation in my entire life and I dated the head of the football team in high school.

"Michael." You said. Your name is Michael. The way you looked at me, I felt my soul leave my body. "How about yours?"

"Diana".

Did I meet the love of my life? Suddenly, "My Cherie Amour" by Stevie Wonder played from someone's car. You took my hand and we danced. We were one. Everyone was filled with love and mesmerized with one another, but we were like magnets. I knew I found my person...Until you told me the four words I never wanted or expected to hear:

"I have to leave."

The Euphoria I felt suddenly left my body. After you held me closely as I cried myself in your arms, I finally had the courage to ask you:

"Where?"

Then, when you looked down, for some reason, I knew...

"Vietnam".

What? Why Michael?! Why did you have to leave? The love of my life is leaving me and at worse: He's leaving to fight such a senseless and awful war. I know you hate the war. I know you hate that you will have to conform to the establishment. So why are you leaving?

Then I realized something. Every time I talked about the war, you became quiet but melancholy. We'd see protesters dance as well as chant "Make Love! Not War!" but you didn't chant. Instead, you walked away. I should have known. Before I could leave, you grabbed my arm and said

"Don't. Let me explain."

After an hour, I now know, you're doing this because of your father. He fought in the Korean War and his father fought in World War One. You wanted to honor that tradition. However, you admit that it wasn't an easy decision. While you wanted to honor the last wish of your grandfather, you felt the war was wrong. While I do not agree with your decision and I still do not, I know your passion. But suddenly, you shook me up by your offer:

"Marry Me."

We only knew each other for thirty-six hours but I can't let you go! And I'm glad I didn't. It was crazy as hell, marrying a man I barely met, but I'm crazy for you.

A June wedding in San Francisco. Married on Hippy Hill, with many people handing us flowers. Lilacs. Roses. Daisies. Tulips. All were beautiful, but the flower that I still treasure and hold onto for the rest of my life...was the Forget-Me-Not that you handed me. You put the flower in my hair.

We were to spend the next forty-eight hours together alone. Until you head to Vietnam. We did not have a lot of money, but the motel we spent the next two days in felt like paradise. The manager seen us walking in with my flower headpiece and short white dress and you dressed in a tuxedo you rented. He wanted to show his congratulations to us. I noticed he had a Stevie Wonder record. He played "My Cherie Amour" on his record player. It's as if we were meant to be. That was the best day of my life. But forty-eight hours later, was the worse.

I cried myself in your arms before you left me. I kissed you and I know you didn't want me to leave your side. However, I have to be strong. You will be strong for me and I will be strong for you.

I'm remembering how we ran on the beach and spent hours looking for seashells. Or how about making tie-dye shirts with the children on hippy hill?

But of course, I can't forget you singing off key to me My Cherie Amour, saying how the words were describing me. My Darling Love in French. Lovely as the Summer Day.

How are you doing Michael? Do you miss me as much as I miss you? Will you be alright there in Vietnam? Do you need anything? I've heard stories about the negative affects of Vietnam. At the end of the day, I will be there for you when you come back.

All I need is you! I can't wait for you to write me. I keep anticipating the day the mailman comes and delivers the mail with your name on it. I'm building our life here in San Francisco. When you come back, we can talk about our future. Naming our children, arguing on how to decorate our home, the activities we will do on the weekends.

When you come back, I plan on having you to myself. Your father and grandfather would be proud of you like I am. Your selfishness and determination to fight is truly admirable. We will have many memories to share and make when you come back. I did not expect the Summer of 69 to be the year I found love, but I will forever hold that memorable day in my heart. All I ask, My darling love, is that you come back to me safe and sound.

Forever Yours,

Diana