« Then come back. »
« I will. »
Six months later, Thomas’s mother called and asked me to come over. Two officers were sitting in her living room.
His aircraft had disappeared during a mission. They had no confirmed crash site and no body. His status was missing in action.
I asked whether he might be a prisoner.
« We can’t rule that out, » one officer said.
For years, those words were enough to keep me waiting.
Thomas’s parents moved out of state the following year. We exchanged a few letters, but by 1973, we’d lost touch.
When American prisoners began returning home that year, I searched every list our local newspaper printed. Thomas’s name wasn’t among the names I saw.
After a while, I couldn’t bear another disappointment. I stopped looking.
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