MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF
A Love Story by
Diane Stark (McConnell) Sanfilippo
We spent hour after hour, whenever Billy could be home, getting to know our beautiful island home and these memories will be with me forever, but I have no burning desire to return. One can never go back, and I am sure that I would find the changes appalling as the island’s tourist trade has grown out to invade even our lovely wild beach, with a huge resort just around the corner from our small A-frame home, which is still there. I know that I would HAVE to see it, but I would not want to see it, because of the memories. Although I know that I can never, never go back to those beautiful days exploring the island, and those even more beautiful nights lying in my Billy’s arms on that soft cream carpet.
As if it were yesterday, I still have those same feelings, with the same intensity, and my mind remains twenty-two years old while in our little frame house I am still waiting for my soldier to come home.
I can never hold him again, or gently trace his handsome face with my finger, and my heart can no longer race through those peaks and valleys as we made love with the moon watching through the tall windows. My cheeks no longer sting from his unshaven face as we kissed, deeply and frantically, until we both climbed to the moon over, and over, and over again, and never again will I hear him softly whisper, “I love you more than life itself”.