(no subject)
gingerly arching her back to avoid the pertruding nails from the ceiling boards, cecelia manuvered her way through the plastic bins, out of season cross country skiis, and luggage in the garage attic. as soon as she stepped onto the platform, she knew she'd have to be quick for two simple reasons: she was about to venture into an unknown world, and the blistering heat would kill her if she stayed for too long. heading to the tip of the attic, she found the box she'd been waiting patiently to open. "Letters." That's all it said. Just two days prior cecelia had been looking for her softball gear when she stumbled upon the "Letters." Unaware of curious fingertips, her mother called out her name for dinner. The "Letters." would have to wait.
What patience it took for a twelve year old to resist the temptation. but on this afternoon, her parents were visiting with grandma at the nursing home. alone, with no supervision, she made her way to the attic. still wrapped in the envelope, she began to read letter #1.
My dear Judy,
It's been days since I last receieved a letter from you and I miss you so very much. Today I played a round of golf and did quite well. Only a few times did I land in the sand trap. Mother has been bothering me to buy new dress shirts, but I'm sure I'll ruin them in no time. I wish you were here with me so I could kiss you and tell you how much I love you. I can't wait to get back to school. I promise to do all of my work, but I can't promise that I won't be able to think about you. I'm dreaming of you.
Love,
Wayne
One letter after another, her father professed his love for her mother. and one letter after another, her mother accepted his love and returned the favor. Hundreds of letters over numerous years. The topics changed--school, jobs, family stories, frats, nursing school--but the essence remained the same; they were madly in love.
at the bottom of the box was a photograph, black and white. they were at a homecoming football game. on the back of the picture, in her mother's handwriting, it said, "our first real date, 1968." cecelia examined the picture with such intensity. her parents looked like strangers. she could barely even recognize them from who they had become. for the longest time, she could not understand why they seemed to foreign to her. her mothers hair was longer. her father had thick black glasses. her mother was wearing his varsity jacket. her father was thin. they seemed so different than what she knew them to look like. suddenly, it occured to her. she didn't recognize them because they seemed so happy together.
with no warning, she heard the car door slam shut. cecelia threw all of the letters back into the box, giving the photograph just one more glance. she sped through the attic, knicked her arm on the exposed nail, hurried down the ladder, and ran to the living room just in time to sit in front of the television set before the front door opened.
Mother went directly to the kitchen to make lunch for the family. "Don't sit in front of the television set all day young lady. you'll go blind." Father immediately went upstairs to change into sweatpants and a t-shirt, then wobbled to the basement where he'd entertain himself with solitaire and pornography for the next few hours, only taking breaks to urinate and eat. they didn't talk. they didn't make eye contact. the coexhisted in silence. and as cecelia sat blankly in front of the television set, she wondered if this is what happened to love. it appeared vibrant and fresh and full of smiles, and later transformed into a cold distance. how does someone forget what it feels like. how does it just go away. why was nobody fighting to reclaim it. why did it have to disappear. cecelia sat in silence and began to cry. she closed her eyes and hoped she'd never fall in love.