August 9th, 1974,

Dear, Diary,

I told myself I would never love again. I guess I lied, because here I was getting ready for my first date since Leo died.

He fought in the war, shame he died. He was so sweet. I swore I would never love again after Leo. He was my whole world, we were going to get married when he came home.

I miss him with all my heart. Yet, here I am, I had to move on at some point I suppose.

I just never thought it'd be so soon, it's only been two years. I wanted to wear my pearl necklace, the one Leo gave me before he left for Vietnam, but my friend, Shannon told me not to.

"It'll bring back too many sad memories for you, Nance. It's not good for a first date." She said. Shannon's three years older than me I usually listen to what she says, and she's right. I shouldn't.

A lot of the stuff I own reminds me of Leo, I had to buy a whole new dress and shoes just because of it.

Too much hassle, if you ask me. But, my mother said I need to get back in the dating pool. "Leo was a great man but you can't just swear off love, Nancy."

I agree but it doesn't feel right too. I made a promise to myself that I would never love again. I don't think I should love again. Yet, here I am. Leaving my house with my brand new dress and brand new heels for my first date in two years since my fiancé died.

Love,

Nancy Woods.

August 11th, 1974

Dear Diary,

Despite Shannon's insistence to leave the pearls at home, I wore it to my first date since Leo died. I think he would've wanted me not to linger too long. To not keep holding on to the visage of the man I once believed would return from the war. To make new memories with someone who was here, in the present, not left in the past.

It went well. As well enough for a date with a stranger as it could be. It was arranged by Mother; he was some sort of business owner that had moved from the States down here to our cosy little town in regional Australia. I believe he mentioned an expansion of his business here in Alice Springs, though why he would come here and not to the bustling metropolis of Sydney or Melbourne was a mystery. He must've been mad.

We spoke politely of the weather and of the status of the Vietnam War in the first half an hour, but the conversation died out after the food arrived. I can distinctly remember his name starting with an 'M'. Perhaps Mark, or Michael. Regardless, he was a rather pleasant man, and his words were flowery and pretty. So, so different to my Leo, who had a bark for a laugh and gravel for a voice.

I found myself comparing Leo and Mister 'M' subconsciously. I noted the way he held himself a little slouched, while Leo had always straightened his back with pride whenever we were together. The way he twiddled his thumbs when he had nothing more to say, while Leo would always keep the conversation flowing. And when he asked if I would have dessert, while Leo already ordered a slice of pavlova with extra fruit on the side to share.

The date ended with no unnecessary details exchanged, and I walked home to where Mother had been waiting by the door for my arrival. She demanded to know what had taken place during my evening out with What's-his-name, but I ignored her and readied myself for bed. Of course, the next day, I was forced to tell her what happened, and she was, as usual, disappointed we weren't an instant match.

Oh, Diary, how I miss my Leo. How I yearn for the future we might've have together had the bullet not claimed his life! I am left to drown in the misery of it all, even after two years have passed. I don't think I will ever get over him, not until I am old enough to forget anything that happened before the age of 40.

Love,

Nancy Woods