My Dearest Naomi (5 page)

I don’t care for the third- through fifth-grade arithmetic books. I noticed this last week when they showed them to me. The words used to explain the lessons are very difficult. The students almost need to carry dictionaries. So I guess we’ll teach vocabulary lessons along with arithmetic lessons.

A blessed letter from you finally arrived! I knew Lonnie and Luella were gone all day, so right after the children left school at 3:30, I came down to check the mailbox. After sitting on the front porch to read your letter, I walked back to the schoolhouse and worked until five o’clock. I had to do the chores since Lonnie and Luella won’t be back until late, so I didn’t work till six, which is my usual time to leave the school.

I’m starting to feel more at home, which is good. It helps the lonesome feelings considerably. Luella was telling me last night about someone from around here whose young wife came here from Florida. Even though they already have children, she still gets awfully homesick, which she hides from her husband. At least that’s what I was told. She waits to cry until he’s not around. I think the story was meant to comfort me, but
it left feelings of despair instead. Like, “You’ll never get over your homesickness.” Which may be true, but I’d rather not think about that now.

The young folks are having a ball game at the schoolhouse tonight, so even if I’m not too fond of softball, I shall trot myself down there.

Take care of yourself. And I pray that God will protect and keep you in His care.

I love you,

Eugene

Forenoon, September 8

This finds me just back from a long, early morning drive into Worthington with Mom and with half a bag of jelly beans in my stomach. Is it any wonder I have headaches!

Today I have to leave for my housecleaning job at one o’clock, and it’s noon now so I’d better write fast.

Dad is away working with Harvey someplace south of here for the day. Harvey wanted help building a small pole barn. I would think Dad has plenty of work on the farm to keep him busy, but you know how it goes. Harvey and he will trade the favor somewhere, I’m sure.

Don is working on the silo-filling crew as usual this year. He told me they have several weeks to go yet, and they should be at our place before too long. Rosanna has our wash out on the line. Betsy and Larry are in school. With our trip into town, I didn’t get to see Ada’s children walk with them on their way to school. They are such a cute sight.

When we arrived back from Worthington, I unhitched the horse while Mom unloaded the groceries. I’m not sure what Mom is doing right now—something down in the basement. The weather is gorgeous this morning, breezy and cool. I could even see my breath at six o’clock before we started for town.

Harvey’s Julia sent me a “thinking of you” card last week, which meant a lot to me. She is one of the most thoughtful girls I know, and I have often wished I could be more like her.

As you can see, I don’t really know what to write about. Everything is boring and the same as usual. Please keep telling me what happens in school, as it interests me immensely. I had to laugh at the story of the first grader moving his desk over by his sister’s and the handkerchief story. I imagine that was kind of gross.

Mom has to go over to Wayne Helmuth’s place tonight to help organize things for the wedding for Richard and Joan. Joan’s mom, Katie, said she can’t be two places at once. It looks like a lot of people are using the Helmuth place for weddings this year, but it’s understandable with their large house and equally large pole barn next door.

Don now says he might take someone to the table at the evening hymn singing, if he’s not the only boy his age to do so. I told him to do it anyway, but no, he said he won’t. I think he’s being stubborn, and when the
time comes, he’ll give in and take some girl to the table for the thrill of it, if nothing else. I suppose the Mennonites don’t have the practice of pairing up all the young people for the hymn singing on a wedding night. You remember how the pressure is. Which gives me another reason for wanting to be out there right now.

Well, I should at least get this room in order before I go to work, so more writing in a little bit.

I retrieved the mail before I went to work, and there was this beautiful card in the mailbox. Oh, thank you so much, and that was a wonderful little poem in the first letter. It means more to me than I can say.

I’m sitting here at the Bachs, finished with the cleaning of the house, but Mrs. Bach is still not back from the health spa in Salem, so I have to wait for another hour. That is, if she keeps to her usual schedule. It’s five o’clock now, and John, her husband, is sitting in the recliner drinking Pepsi. I don’t know if I ever told you, but John can hardly get around anymore. He’s not in a wheelchair yet, but close to it. And Mrs. Bach wants someone with him all the time.

Every time I come he asks, “How’s your boyfriend?” He asks all kinds of questions about you—and the same ones over and over, as he’s quite forgetful. I was sitting here a bit ago, staring into space, and he said, “That’s all right, go ahead and write it down.” He loves to tease. Today he asked me how many times I’ve said “I love you” in this letter. I didn’t answer, so he said, “The whole page, huh?”

Maybe you have an idea how my Wednesdays go. By the way, I
do
love you.

Last night one of Mom’s
Englisha
friends, Elena Marshall, was here. She talked to me secretly. She wants to bake a cake for Mom and Dad’s anniversary on the fifteenth. It’s their twentieth, and I was glad because I’d been thinking we should do something.

Well, I have to go. I’ll write all about the wedding. Until then, take care of yourself.

“Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer” (Romans 12:12).

I was going to wait until tomorrow night after the wedding to write to you, but I was sitting here lonesome for you so I decided I’d write some tonight. I don’t feel very cheerful about going to Richard and Joan’s wedding. If only you could be here, it would make all the difference. So much for being “patient in tribulation.”

How is school going? If you have time or want to sometime, send me the pupils’ names and the grades they are in. Please describe each one and his or her traits. That is, if you know them well enough. I think this would be very interesting.

The weather was warmer here today, eighty-two degrees and beautiful. If it’s this nice tomorrow, Richard and Joan will have a perfect day for their wedding. They must have made some changes in the plans because the ceremony will now be at Joan’s place. And after that everyone will walk down to the Helmuth home for dinner. The evening hymn sing will also be at the Helmuths. Mom has to be at the Helmuth place tomorrow morning at eight. She will stay all day because she’s one of the cooks.

My aunt Hannah, who lives in northern Indiana, wrote today and shared more bad news about her daughter, Jessica, who is in
rumspringa
. I’m so glad our group of young people around here aren’t into wild stuff. Jessica goes to town and sits at a bar about every evening. Every time I think about her it makes me sad. We’ll have to pray really hard for her. I just finished writing her a letter, as I’ve felt for a while now that I should. Maybe I should have done it sooner.

I arrived home from the wedding, and I’m here alone. It’s only 3:15, but I couldn’t stand it any longer. For one thing, I wanted to see if I had received a letter from you. I also have a splitting headache. It may have come from seeing all those couples together. By the way—there was a letter, and no, I will never get tired of your letters. You can write as often as you want.

Now about the wedding. Joan wore light blue, and the two witness girls a little darker blue. The witness couples were Robert and Beth on Richard’s side and Joan’s cousin Ella and her boyfriend on her side.

The table waiter girls wore dark blue, and they were seated in this order:

Ryan, a cousin to Richard and Marie

Carl and Bernice

James and Mary (your sis)

Alan and Melissa

Ben and Elva

Steve and Lydia

Lyle and Heidi

Edward and Wilma from Mio

Adam and Brenda

Bishop Enos married Richard and Joan, with a visiting minister having the first part. Everett Gingerich read the Scripture, and Bishop Enos had the main sermon, of course. It was a good one, and not too long. They were all done by noon, which, as you know, is always an accomplishment for Amish weddings.

The weather was warm and muggy, and not nearly as nice as yesterday. I got to sit between Rhoda and Rebecca to eat dinner. I really enjoy those two. The food was excellent. We had ham and potatoes together in one dish, chicken done with an awesome sauce, salad, and fruit. Then, of course, the usual assortment of pies and date pudding. I didn’t have supper last night or breakfast this morning, so that’s probably the real reason for my headache. But don’t blame me or laugh at me. Weddings are special occasions for everyone, even when you aren’t the one being married.

Rhoda is a jewel of a girl. If anyone could have made me laugh today, it was her. The two of us, along with Adam and Brenda, were talking about being nervous on our first dates and being ill at ease if we had partners we hardly knew. Rhoda said that if we just say something about being ill at ease it sometimes breaks the ice. She said once when she and Delbert were having a date she was fiddling with her fingers. Delbert asked, “Are you nervous?” She had to laugh and admit it was true.

A lot of people asked about you today and sympathized with me since you’re so far away. Rhoda said she and Delbert weren’t together for months at a time. I hadn’t known much about their courtship, but I guess it would have had to be conducted at long distance since he comes from Holmes County. So we aren’t the only ones who go through this, but it still doesn’t make it any easier. Also Rhoda said she thinks it’s good for a couple to be apart for a while, that it makes them appreciate the other so much more. I think maybe she is right—but still…

I’m going to help clean up at the Helmuths’ tomorrow, but for now
there is the singing to live through. I hope you’re not jealous if I’m taken to the table by someone, as you know how it goes. Those matchmakers don’t take no for an answer.

Tell the youth girls in Iowa “Hi” for me. I would love to meet them, but I hope they don’t expect too much, as they may well be disappointed. Also tell Lonnie and Luella thanks for taking care of you and that I send my greetings.

Take good care of yourself, Eugene.

I love you,

Your Naomi

Saturday, September 11

I finished rereading all the letters I’ve received from you so far—four of them. I’m left with sorrow wrapped around my heart. Not because of the letters, but because I miss you. I’ve hit my first real low, and I’m not sure why. Maybe because I knew Richard and Joan’s wedding was this week. What fun that would have been. I wrote you a letter last night, but it sounded too depressed so I’m not mailing it.

I simply love the poem you sent—“From My Heart.” You have good taste when it comes to poetry. Well, you have good taste in a lot of things, and you are beautiful. Have I told you that recently? I don’t think so. It would be awesome to spend time with you this weekend. Your presence would soothe me. Your soft-brown eyes with love shining out of them would be out of this world.

I have feared since arriving here that by leaving you our love will be put to a great test. One that could prove too hard for it. Maybe I have hurt you too much already? I hope not. The young people out here aren’t helping me much. I hear things like “She’ll be finding somebody else soon, Eugene. It’s not safe to leave a girl alone for long.” They may be teasing, but it still hurts. One of the older boys even told me, “You’ll find someone you like better out here. Believe me, it always goes that way.”

Well, I have no intention of doing any such thing. Nor do I believe it possible to find a better girl than you. I expect you could find someone better, which is the scary part.

In the meantime, I’ll continue writing and hoping this time away from each other will pass quickly.
Yah,
I know—like nine months can be over before too long. I do tend to be a dreamer. Speaking of dreaming, here is a poem I wrote for you. Perhaps it was knowing the wedding was today or simply the memory of your beautiful eyes, but here it is.

To tell the love I have for you,

I’d take the morning’s sparkling dew

And pull the sunrise from the sky

And on the grass its colors dye.

I’d sprinkle it with roses red

And pull the lilies from their bed.

A cardinal’s song I’d tie around

With spring, and air, and copper sound.

I’d use a rainbow for a bow,

And give all this so you would know

That in this world on land or sea,

How precious is your heart to me.

As always,