I met Mable on V-J day in New York City. I was recovering from a leg wound from Bastogne, and I had saw her as a nurse in the hospital. My leg had mostly healed, and I knew just how to show it off. I visited a local dance club, accepted and free drink and a pat on the back, and that's when I saw her. She was in a stunning black dress, with the fanciest make up and hair a country boy like me had ever seen. She recognized me from the hospital, and walked over to me. We talked about my leg, our lives, and the war. It seemed like we had talked for an hour before the band played my favorite song. I looked at her, she looked at me, and before I knew it, we were dancing.
Things went by like a blur after that. We started dating, got engaged, and had a lovely little marriage in the Kentucky country-side. We were young and in love. We moved into this nice little cottage, and it was there we started and raised our family.
After the boys left, it was just me and Mabel in the house. We would have guests over and they would laugh at Mabel's funny stories, and drool over her delicious casseroles. She always seemed to emit confidence and love, no matter where she was. She was even like that the day she started to go.
I remember the day. She was in the hospital, on a rainy Monday, I believe. I came into her room, bringing with me an old record player. I played our song. The Song we danced to. The song we fell in love to. She looked at me with such love and appreciation. She couldn't dance anymore, but it seemed like her mind was going off on some intense, passionate dance routine. She wanted to go that way.
She was the most amazing person I have ever met. She was my only love. She was my Mabel.