Nate’s salutations moved from “Dear Meg” to “Dearest Meg,” and his patience always seemed to increase to meet the need for it. If he suffered from moments of frustration over my reluctance to say I loved him, he never let it show.

And then, when he least expected it, the fog of my immature confusion lifted, and at long last… love arrived.

Mar. 16, 1969 – Dearest Meg. I love you. This weekend was lonely and sad without you. I’ve gone to two movies with my men and a staff party with the head resident and his wife to try to keep my mind off you. But no luck… I think of you constantly. When I look at clothing ads in the New Yorker, I imagine you in the clothes. You’re a beautiful woman with intelligence and taste. I am really looking forward to this weekend! But don’t worry. There is no pressure.

Mar. 16, 1969 – Dearest Meg. When you call your kindergarten children “kidlets,” that is very sweet. We can one day fill our apartment with their mobiles, paintings, etc. Good luck on your diet. I am proud of you for always seeking to improve an excellent thing. I have to try hard to measure up to you.

Mar. 16, 1969 – Dear Nate. Life seems to be one set of confusing circumstances following another. I’ve missed you terribly over the weekend and thought about you constantly. I think I’m in love with you, Nate. Who knows yet if this is the love a marriage must be based upon, but I do think I love you.     Meg.

Mar. 19, 1969 – Dearest Meg. The letter you wrote Sunday midnight puts me in a soaring, joyous frame of mind! And it makes me think of you all day, while doing everything! Each time I get in the car, I almost walk around to open the other door for you, wanting so much for you to be here. Does it sound like I’m deeply in love? Either that or insane! I think it’s the former. I love you!

Mar. 19, 1969 – Dearest Meg. The weather here is fabulous! I hope it holds for the weekend. After dinner with my parents, I want to take you on a drive out into the country again, for a long walk. As for Friday, all the motels here, even in surrounding towns, are booked solid for the State Basketball Tourney this weekend. So if you come on Saturday morning, you’ll be in time for lunch with the parents at noon. I’ll pay for the train fare. I love you so much!

Mar. 19, 1969 – Dear Nate. So much has happened since I last wrote! Sorry it’s been several days,  jam-packed ones — My adult education class and an oral report I had to give after many hours of prep. A broken universal joint on my Corvette that I “helped” Bervin fix (4 hours beneath the car). An important conversation with my brother Tom about his plans – till 3:00 AM (he’s transferring from Wheaton College to a school in Washington DC that’s tops in Political Science). Church responsibilities galore. A funeral wake for a distant relative. A trip back to Wilmette to deposit my Corvette’s hard top in their basement so I can use the soft top (gorgeous weather!). A traffic ticket on the way back to the apartment that night at 1:00 AM. (I’m going to court in April.) And an afternoon spent with (my old boyfriend) playing tennis and chatting until 2:00 AM. My conclusion to all this stuff? I love Nate.

“These three remain: faith, hope… and love.” (1 Corinthians 13:10)