I Hold With Those Who Favor Fire

The package was so small I hadn't noticed it at first. Stuck between bills and the Saturday Evening Post, it had fallen unseen onto the carpet.

I knew the handwriting the minute I opened it.

Mine.

Tad's neat cursive appeared only on the address and on a short note on the top of the stack of my letters to him.

I had to scrape around in the kitchen drawers for matches, but the paper kindled quickly in the dry July heat. As sparks whirled up the chimney the edges of Tad's note curled in glowing golden lines that quickly ate their way to the center of the paper, leaving fine, black ash.

"Rosie - I can understand but I can never forget. You are the love of my life and always will be.

I'm just a scientist, without elegant words for my feelings, so I'll turn to my favorite poet, Robert Frost:

"Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire."


Our times will end in a kind of fire. What the world will be like afterward I do not know. But I can only hope that you'll think fondly of our time together when you look back from whatever your future holds, which I dearly hope is great joy.

All my love,

Tad