Following a six-month assignment at the Marine Division in Annapolis, Maryland I returned home. The day after my return Mardelle and I were still sitting at the table in conversation when I heard her say something about a lawyer.

“Beg pardon?” I queried.

“I said that I had engaged a lawyer to handle the divorce.”

“What divorce is that?”

“Ours,” she said, “I don’t want to be married any more.”

This bit of information came to me as a bolt out of the blue. I knew that she at times had moments of dissatisfaction; but don’t we all? True, I had been absent for most of the past six months except for alternate weekends when I came home for a couple of days. Possibly she found life more to her liking without me to consider. She was not without concern for me, because on one snowy Friday night when I showed up she gave me a very hard time about the hazards of traveling in such foul weather.

Mardelle and I met while I was a student at The University of Kentucky where she was employed. I was almost immediately smitten by the lively young woman. The attraction was mutual and we became close friends. Had it not been for the strong possibility of my being drafted into the Army I’d bet that we would have soon been married, but it was not to be. To this day I believe it was Mardelle’s stepmother who put an end to any idea of our union. She had other plans that didn’t include a small town mountain hick.

More than a quarter century passed during which there were many changes. World War II had brought about changes enough, but changes in our personal lives were profound. She had married a man acceptable to her stepmother, raised three children, divorced the philanderer and developed rheumatoid arthritis. I too had married a woman to whose mother I was most acceptable, raised four children, and I had been recently widowed. In contrast to Mardelle’s, my marriage had been a mostly happy and fulfilling experience with Mary.

Living alone after Mary’s death, I became very lonely and spent much time wondering how I should spend the rest of my life. I didn’t relish living alone. Having had a good marriage, I naturally thought of finding a mate. None of the several single women in my acquaintance appealed to me; the appealing ones were married. It seemed nonsensical but I began thinking of female friends I had once known. Mardelle topped the list. I had no idea where she lived nor what her circumstances might be. Nevertheless I located her address in Lexington, Kentucky where I had known her. I wrote to her and got back a cool answer. My second letter drew a more favorable response and she agreed to see me as I passed through town. We spent a pleasant afternoon getting reacquainted. She invited me to stop by on my way back home. Although she warned me of her rheumatoid arthritis disability, before I knew it I was a frequent traveler to Lexington to see her. At Christmas time her daughter Glenna became a bride and moved out leaving Mardelle alone in her house.

Half a year later Mardelle had sold her house and furnishings, and she and her Burmese cat Nedra came to Lima. We were married and moved into my house. The Lima folks made her feel welcome in her new situation. I tried to make her feel at home and we got on pretty well. During our eleven years together I joined in her interests, the main one being the Humane Society and related stuff. We took a vacation every year away from home, sometimes visiting family members, or friends, and sometimes just the pair of us. We even went camping. She found a rheumatologist who served her well in the nearby town of Findlay.

Of course we had our disagreements as all couples do. Once in a great while she got angry with me and gave me a verbal lashing, and I knew not why. I attributed it to a flare-up of her disease. She always cooled down after a while. Overall, I thought we got along all right. Why did she want to leave me? I never got an answer to the question. I had no animosity toward her, so I gave her all she asked for and bid her goodbye with regret.

Mardelle went to live with her married son in another town for about a year. We corresponded by letter. In one of her letters she hinted that we could maybe get back together. By then I was reconciled to living alone and thinking of other plans, so I didn’t take the bait.

Evidently Mardelle found that life with her son was not entirely satisfactory, for she came back to Lima where she lived in a mobile home for several years.

If there be any moral to this story it might be an old adage I once heard and ignored. “You can’t go back.”