“Darling, I Love You”

One of the little photographs shows Mount Rainier rising above the landscape, its snow-covered peak dominating the view.
Turn it over.
In my father’s handwriting are the words:
“Darling, I love you.”
There is something particularly moving about finding those words more than eighty years later.
My father wasn’t writing for anyone else to read. He certainly wasn’t thinking about a daughter who would someday find the photograph among her mother’s belongings and try to reconstruct this period of their lives.
These were simply private words from a young man far from home to the woman he loved.
On one side is Mount Rainier, one of the great landmarks of the Pacific Northwest.
On the other is Mary.
The photograph tells me where my father was.
His handwriting tells me what mattered to him while he was there.
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