A Girl Promised to Marry Her Childhood Friend Before Fleeing Poland in 1939 – Decades Later, Her Granddaughter Brought Her a Package and Said, ‘He Says You Must Keep Your Promise’

“I’ll marry you when we’re grown.”

I slipped the ring onto my finger. “Fine. But don’t forget.”

    “I never forget anything.”

“Except your schoolbooks.”

    He twisted copper wire into a tiny ring.

“Those don’t count!”

***

In 1939, my parents announced that we were leaving Poland.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“America,” my father answered.

“What about Stanislaw?”

    I’ll marry you when we’re grown.

My mother hugged me. “We cannot wait, sweetheart.”

Before leaving, I returned the copper ring to him.

“Keep it until I come back.”

“Will you?”

    “I’ll try.”

We never properly said goodbye.

    I returned the copper ring to him.

***

In Chicago, I spent years asking my parents whether anyone had written from Poland.

Nobody had.

Eventually, I stopped asking.

Then I met Michael, who couldn’t dance to save his life.

“Will you marry me?”

    We never properly said goodbye.