In the beginning I received his letters regularly. As time passed however they became less frequent and finally I hardly ever received them. I worried constantly. My mind would go off on these tangents of wonder that became figments of my imagination. There were mornings when I would sit at the table drinking my coffee, as my mind began to take on a life of its own. It would tell me that the letter didn’t come because he had been killed and I just had not been notified yet. Then I would glance toward the door wondering if it were true. I would watch the door contemplating what it was going to feel like to be told my husband had died for reasons that no one could define. I could hear the clock ticking on the wall. Tic, tock, tick, tock, the silence of the room was closing in on me. It became more deafening as the noise of the clock grew more intense. Tick Tock, Tick, Tock! The palms of my hands began to sweat as the scenario continued to run through my mind. The door seemed to get closer as the silence became unbearable and the sound of the clock was all I could hear. TICK, TOCK, TICK, TOCK! My heart began to beat faster, than skipped a beat….