The letter
Dear me, the letter I don't remember packing instead of lunch today starts off. The only other thing it says is "Today talk to her as if you don't have tomorrow." a statement so vague that it can only be written by me. I know her. I've watched her many days, and fallen for her for doing regular actions that if done by regular people would just seem all to regular, but not her. She makes breathing seem graceful. Hell she makes walking seem like flying, and don't even get me started on actions like talking, laughing and that smile. Though none of these things have been things she has ever done with me. So as far as the instructions I have unknowingly given myself go, I must let myself down. Because the only thing about admiring from a far is that you don't make yourself known. I mean she's popular and eats lunch with actual people, whereas I am a loner who eats lunch with Fitzgerald and Hemingway, Their work that is. I usually see her laughing from where I sit in the cafeteria, but not today. Her seat is empty. I look again just as I am going to get some of the delicious cafeteria food every high school student looks forward to all sarcasm intended and she is still not there... I hope she's okay.
I have my usual chat with the lunch ladies, the usual laughs and giggles they give every under the radar teen who comes awkwardly before them. When suddenly I see her. She is sitting outside of the principals office in the area for teens waiting to be picked up. Her soft sweet hands gripping her usually rosey red cheeks, as her elbows dig into the safety of her lap. Her brown hair falling lifelessly onto the grey sweater she wears over the blue shirt that on her has always made her outshine the sky and drown me like the sea. While captivated, stuck admiring from a far as usual the words from the letter replay in my head. "Today talk to her as if you don't have tomorrow." I begin to feel as if I am on a cliff with two choices. Stay and look down, or simply jump and hope the wind will catch you and lead you safely down... To her. Gripped by the possibilities of the second choice for once I jump and land safely next to her on the bench. Well not right beside her but the closest I have ever been to her. Smelling her scent which reminds me of a home I had always wanted, but never had. One of those homes you see in thise old sixties television shows you watch with your grandparents. The ones that always smell like the pie your tv mom had just placed fresh on the window sill. The pie that was placed there to cool even though there is a fridge right there for god sakes. I chuckle softly to myself at this internal conversation I've just had over her smell, when like an adorable turtle seen from the corner of my eye, she comes out of her shell. "Whats so funny?" she asks as she rubs her eyes and then proceeds to stare curiously into my face as if searching for the answer. "Its nothing just random thoughts, I-I-I wasn't laughing at you I swear." Darn it I stuttered. As far as furst impressions go stuttering can't be a way to make a good one. Though she inches closer as if more invested in this moment. I immediately am submerged more into the home smell I am starting to love so much. "Well I figured. You don't seem the type to kick a girl while she's down." I chuckle to myself again. "Actually I am not the type to kick anyone while they're down... Especially women.... Because I've never had the opportunity to talk to any." She smiles and inches slightly closer. Strawberries! The smell of the pie is now evident, and even more like home. "Today talk to her as if you don't have tomorrow." The words now begin to make more sense, talk to her today because she needs you today. Because if I wait to long she might not be here tomorrow. So my next words have to be perfectly thought out. "Whats wrong?" A simple question asked at the right moment with the right response. More tears which leads her to tell me all. She tells me of her mom, and how five years ago she was diagnosed with cancer and today passed away. Through all she shared I listened and when she allowed me I held her... I held home until she had to go. That was when I first missed home.
The years passed by gracefully. We talked, she laughed at my awkwardness and smiled all the time. On our third year together at our prom she said I love you for the first time, she said it firat and before I said it back, I did as I did the first time we spoke, planned my worda out carefully to choose the perfect statement and then replied "why?" she responded immediately " You cared about me, and knew me from the start. You stuttered out words that weren't much, but for me meant everything. Ever since you've still cared and still know me yet done everything to learn more. So my love, my life and my all are a small price to pay to say thank you." I look at her and stare deeply into her face as if searching For all the things I want to say, place a hand over her rosey red cheeks, grip them firmly within the safety of my touch. When suddenly she places her hand over mine and stares me in the eyes, and just as I am about to speak the words she leans, inches closer and kisses me. Letting me hold home so close that it could never leave me... That she could never leave me.
Years later she was diagnosed with the same cancer as her mother, we were already married for twenty years. Five years later she died.. My wife of twenty five years. The best years of my life. One day while cleaning out the attic and rummaging through old boxes in search of pictures of her I found my lunch box. The same pale blue now rusted lunch box which contained the letter that led me to speak to her. I then open it to find a letter marked "Dear me," at first I think its the same one from that afternoon, but the dates are different and there are alot more words. It reads "Don't be sad. If you're reading this then you jumped from the cliff that day. You talked to her, you have since laughed with her and made her smile. So don't be sad. If you wouldn't have talked to her she would have killed herself that night." The words replay "Today talk to her as if you don't have tomorrow."
"That was a life that I had to experience, a life of sadness and regret, but you didn't have to go through that. You got to talk to her everyday like you didn't have tomorrow. You got to love her, to hold her, to kiss her. You got many tomorrows, you got home. So don't be sad just live like you'll get to see her tomorrow." The letter ends with those words, and suddenly I am caught thinking back to the words she said, the bench and the cute turtle she made herself that day, finishing on the thought of the stutter she loved so much and the way she said I love you and the many I love you's I recieved since. So I do as I did then, think of my response and simply say "I loved you too."