Under the Oak Tree

The case of Loving v. Virginia is a popular one, for it became the legal basis for interracial marriage, not only in Virginia, but in sixteen other states.

But before this, the Lovings and others, were either arrested, forced to flee or hide, or at worst, killed, because they fell in love with people of differing skin tones.

This is some of the story of one such couple, Emma and Virgil, written in the forms of journal/diary excerpts and letters.

***

October 4, 1960, Virgil, Carolina County, Virginia

My spirited Emma,

Love, next to God, is the most impartial thing on this Earth.

It also makes the wise foolish.

Both of us should be running away from one another, back into our designated boxes, "falling in love" within what society, our families deems appropriate. It wouldn't be the first time I put myself aside to please my family, nor would I think it'll be the last.

This time, though, I can't, because the good son who gave up his heart for his family every time he was called to do so is gone.

You've destroyed him, Emma, and I've gladly and wholeheartedly accepted the new man I've become, molded by you, by us. (I hope you consider this love, just as I do with every beat.)

So even if we have to hide it under the shadow of this oak tree, let this love grow, forever and forever.

---------------------------------

I imagine a grand tree

our children will sit under

so they can hear its story

of how it grew

despite the many

who tried to cut it down.

---------------------------------

Sincerely, your lo, Virgil

***

Draft of October 5, 1960 Letter, Emma

I..

What

[I think this man made me speechless. I didn't think that was possible.]

***

October 21, 1960, excerpt from Virgil's journal

I've always loved words and the power they hold. Maybe it's why I made a point to learn everything I can about them, because as a negro man, there are so few ways for me to have any true power.

Now I am not a power hungry soul, I am just a man who wishes to be respected as much as any white man. And as it often does in human history, power begets respect.

But on the other side of that power, that respect, there is the pain and fear.

And now heartbreak.

I think my words have scared her away, for a new letter has not appeared at our spot, hidden away from the world much like we are.

When I wrote the letter, it was if my heart ripped the reins from my mind, and wrote everything I couldn't say when I saw her last. I have often prided myself that while my heart has a say, my mind has the final say.

It's never been that way with her.

***

Draft of October 24, 1960 letter, Emma

I lov

You make me

***

October 24, 1960, excerpt from Emma's diary

There are certain things I am sure of. The sun will rise from the east, my mother will wear her pearls to church on Sunday, and old Lover's Oak will be burned to the ground if this small-minded town ever found out what M + R truly stood for.

It is with that same surety I say I am a spirted mare, immoveable once my mind is set on something, no matter what society deems appropriate.

With all of this in mind, should it be a surprise when I write I'm in love with what society would say is the wrong man?

So why can't I tell him that? As he often says, I am incredibly blunt, unashamed of what flies out of my mouth.

I've always admired how colorful his letters and poems are, and he tells me how he wish he could be straightforward as I am in my letters.

Now, I'm just impressed he has all of these words, when I can't even say those three words.

***

November 1, 1960, Emma, Carolina County, Virginia

My love, Virgil,

I have written so many drafts since your last letter, and every time, the words failed me over and over again. But I think this is the one.

Mom says once you spend so much time with each other, you start to blend into each other, taking bits of each other for ourselves. I never understood it until you, because before you, I didn't care so much about my words. I said whatever came to mind, as if there was a broken filter between my brain and mouth.

But with you, I first found myself second guessing, and with your last letter, any articulating of something that made sense completely went right out the window. And now, the piece of you here in my heart, is sprouting out poems, though many are not great like yours. I do like this one.

---------------------------------

Don't think I've run away from you,

because I never could.

We are intertwined, you and I,

and the string is made of steel.

---------------------------------

When I first wrote that, I looked around, thinking you were nearby, whispering in my ear. You weren't, but this was made me feel so close to you in a moment where I want to wrap my arms around and never let go.

You're too good to be true, Virgil. I never let myself believe that I would ever hear someone other than my family telling me they love me. I'm too blunt, too outspoken, and yet, despite and because of this, you love me. (And I can't wait for you to tell me.)

I don't care what people say the rules are. I don't care if we become another version of the Lovings, having to leave home, or risk imprisonment. If it wouldn't put your life in jeopardy, I would run outside and scream my love into the world. (I will, for now, be satisfied with telling you the next time we are able to meet at Lover's Oak.)

Until then, I love you. I love you. I love you.

Your love, forever and forever, in the shadows until the light shines on us, Emma