• They met when they were sixteen, in a simpler age without computers or cell phones or internet dating. Back when a person could go down to the local rec area every Friday and Saturday night and they’d find a party so full of vibrant life you couldn’t help but jump right in and dance.

    He’d come up to her, all gentleman-like and said, “Dance with me, Lizzie? Please?”

    “Sure I will, Bobby,” she’d replied. How could she say no?

    Now, neither of them were the type to believe in instant love, but what they shared the moment he took her hand was something awfully close.

    After that one dance, they went outside and lay in the bed of Bobby’s truck, counting stars.

    “Lizzie,” he said, “I’m gonna take you home tonight and I’m gonna march right up to your old man and say, ‘Sir, I respect you, but I’m fixin’ to date your daughter and there ain’t nothin’ you can do about it.’ And then I’m gonna turn around and kiss you, right there in front of him.”

    “Oh Bobby, please don’t!” Lizzie begged. “Papa’ll rip you in two!”

    “I’m just jokin’ with you,” he told her. “But I am gonna kiss you.”

    Bobby looked into her eyes and she looked into his. In that moment, as it often happens with young love, they could see their future together, if futures were perfect, panned out in front of them in one great line. And there, in the bed of a rusty red truck, they shared their first kiss. Love was simple.

    That summer they were the couple everyone was talking about. No party started until they arrived and lit up the room. Alone, they’d just have been ordinary people like you and me, but together they had a magnetism that drew in everyone around them. Everyone wanted to be them.

    Then, in the middle of August, things took a turn for the worse. Lizzie’s little sister drowned in the river a few miles out of town. Her father kept a tight rein on Lizzie and her remaining sisters after that. There were no more late nights at the dance for her anymore.

    But Bobby came around the house to see her. He helped out with the work that had been neglected since little Susan had died. They managed. Until Bobby’s father came home.

    He was on leave from the army. He filled Bobby’s head with tales of glory and battle. Yes, Arthur Grisser convinced his son to enlist.

    Still, Bobby and Lizzie pressed on. Bobby wrote her letters every day, and as soon as Lizzie got them she’d write back. They made it work, but love wasn’t quite so simple anymore.

    When Bobby was sent overseas and into battle, his letters came less and less often. “I can’t get paper and pen much, and I don’t always have time to send them to you,” he wrote. “Sometimes letters even get lost.” He almost died once, but he didn’t tell Lizzie about that.

    Lizzie had her own problems at home. Her little sisters were getting out of school, one of them was married, and she was left waiting for Bobby to come home to her. Every day she grew more and more anxious for his safety. Then the letters stopped coming. Love had just gotten a lot more complicated.

    The news came two months after the letters stopped. Bobby’s unit had been caught in crossfire. No one knew what had happened to them. Were they dead? Were they prisoners of war? No one could say. Lizzie took it hardest of all. She vowed never to marry any man who wasn’t Bobby.

    Ten years passed. Lizzie moved to a bigger city and got a job working with children. If she couldn’t have her own, it was the next best thing. Unfortunately, love had become too complicated for her. Her life gained a comfortable pattern, and for a while she could be happy. But happiness never lasts in real life. She was a beautiful woman, and a man asked her out. The shock shook her loose from the life she’d built away from thoughts of Bobby. She locked herself in her apartment until an unexpected knock came at her door. Reluctantly, she answered it.

    A man stood in the doorway. He wore worn-out clothes and a worn-out face with a worn-out smile. “Lizzie?” he said. “It’s Bobby.” Love was simple all over again.

    End.