Never came back

I was fourteen at the time mama told me to pack up all my old toys and clothes and put them in the attic. She had informed that our relatives from the village would come and collect them in the coming months. I had plenty of toys as my mother always tried to keep me busy while she worked most of the times.

I was reluctant to give away my favourite toys so I packed them slowly in their designated boxes. The task was heartbreaking as I was locking away a part of my childhood. I was a lonely child. No friends, no siblings just myself. I made friends from old pieces of clothing and dolls my mum bought for me.

I carried the brown boxes down the hall and placed them under the suspended string. I firmly planted my feet on the ground and pulled the string that revealed the staircase that led to the attic. A myriad of papers escaped their prison as the door came down. Releasing a heavy sigh I got down on my knees to start collecting the papers. Most of the papers were from school, old bills and old advertisements but amongst the maze of papers was an old photo. It was black and white. It showed a small family of three smiling at the camera. The man was tall, dark and handsome with captivating facial features. His jaw line run sharply across the sides of his face. He had perfectly arched eyebrows that stood proudly at the top of his almond eyes. He smiled widely at the camera with his pearly whites. He wore a white golf shirt and blacks slacks. He held a small child in one arm and the other was wrapped around the small waist of the stunning young lady. Her chestnut skin glowed through the picture.

The woman seemed familiar and I immediately recognized her as my mother. I slowly turned the picture and saw something scribbled in a lazy cursive handwriting similar to mine at the back of the photo, it read:

I will come back soon my dear, Love Gerald.

It really didn’t take much guessing that this Gerald was my father considering there was a striking resemblance between us. I was curious and hungry for information. Mother never really talked about my father and I had always seen it as a sour topic for her so I never brought it up.

I quickly collected the papers and went up the stairs leading to the dusty attic. It consisted of piles of papers, files and boxes. The dust particles leaped through the thin ray of sunlight that came through the miniature window at the far end. There were boxes of old clothes, beddings and tools. But there was only one small shoe box stacked away in the corner. It was white striped with black lines running across it. The gold lines protected the black from the white and shimmered brightly in the morning sun. A thick layer of dust covered the box.

I slowly etched towards it, curious of what this beautiful piece of cardboard held. The floorboards creaked softly with every step. I eased myself into a crouch and picked up the box and placed it on the wooden table beside it. I carefully opened it and found a stack of neatly placed letters. The letters looked creased and old as if they were opened and read a number of times. I let my fingers run over the letters and picked the first one hoping they were in chronological order. They were all addressed to the same person Marabel Sean, mother.

I pulled out the letter. The paper was thick, coffee-stained, edges sharp and lined giving it a vintage look. It smelt lightly of cinnamon and vanilla and a hint of mother’s perfume, raspberries. The same lazy cursive handwriting graced the paper from top to bottom and it read:

Dear Marabel,

I hope you and my little pumpkin are doing fine as I will be worried sick if you are not. I promised that I would write to you once I got here so here I am. The journey here was absolutely tiring and there were too many stops for my liking. But thankfully I arrived safely and on time for the job interview. I know I had promised to stay with you always but you know how life is my dear, it takes you in directions you have never seen yourself going in. But I know I also promised that I will do whatever it takes to take care of the both of you. You are my light, my air and my heart is with you. You are always the one who is so good with words, so please understand. I just pray that I come back to you sooner than later because I miss you and our little one so much and I’m getting homesick but it’s been three days only. I don’t know if I will manage 10 days.

Give Melissa a kiss for me and tell her I love her.

Love Gerald.

I could almost feel like I already knew him. He had an awful sense of humor but still made people laugh any way. I folded the letter in its creases and put it in its envelope and took the second one. It looked exactly like the first one, engraved with the same sloppy handwriting.

Dear Marabel,

I hope you and Melissa are both well. I know I haven’t written to you in a while but I was stressed about getting the job and unfortunately I didn’t get it. We had discussed that the army shouldn’t even be part of our plan but I have to go honey. I do not really have a choice. I wish I could come back home but I can’t. I will make sure to always write to you my love and I will be back in no time.

Love Gerald.

 I had been reading the letters for hours. I started to feel the hope that mom felt at the time the letters were being sent. It was a feeling that brought you tears yet kept you smiling as he explained about everything he did and saw and wrote about the places he was going to. You could almost see his eyes smiling down at you as if he was right there with you elaborating and describing everything.

 Suddenly the letters were finished. No more coffee-stained papers. No more bad jokes. But one green paper stuck out like a sore thumb between the envelopes. I pulled it out and the first thing that caught my eye were the block letters that said DEATH CERTIFICATE. That’s when It all came crushing down on me. The letters and my imagination had taken me far and suddenly left me in the middle of nowhere. I felt and lived every single word he had written whether he was tired at the time, happy, sad or disappointed I felt each one of his emotions and now it was all gone. It was a shock to me despite it happening fourteen years ago. I cried that afternoon like never before.