Foreword: Yes, it is definitely Sunday and not Saturday. This is the first and last time that I’ll miss a day. I didn’t manage my time too well yesterday, so I apologize for posting this a day late. This flash fiction story is inspired partly by my loving grandparents who were married for around 60 years (give or take a few) until my grandfather passed away in October of 2013 and partly by a beautiful story I heard earlier this week on the news about a woman finding an old love letter in a record store and reunited it with the man who wrote it.
Five months ago, I had no idea that finding a letter inside what was supposed to be an antique pocket watch would lead me across the country on a manhunt. After many sleepless nights encouraged by enthralling research, I finally found the letter’s home.
I stood in front of a small brick house on a quiet street in town, holding the worn yellowed paper delicately in my hands. The house was exactly as I had pictured. It was the perfect size for two people, with dark shutters and newly renovated white porch. I took several steps onto the porch and hit my knuckles off the wood three times just loud enough for someone inside to hear.
Only moments after did the door open revealing a woman close to my age. With a bright smile playing on her lips, she stood aside and held the door open so I could walk in.
“Thank you for meeting with me,” I said softly. “I’m excited to have finally found your grandmother after all this time.”
“I’m just fortunate that you’ve reached out for us instead of throwing it away,” the woman said as she closed the door and led me into the sitting room. “My grandmother is laying down. Have a seat and I’ll be right back with her.”
As the woman excused herself, I examined the photos displayed in various locations around the room from my spot on the sofa. Many of them were smiling children, although a few were of a couple in various times of their lives. I glanced toward the entryway when I heard the floor creak and quiet whispering approaching.
“Grandma,” the younger woman said as she helped the older woman into a recliner across from me, “this is the woman who found pappy’s letter.”
Immediately I saw the older woman’s eyes glisten with love. “There’s no reason for us to be strangers. I’m Betty. What’s your name, sweety?”
“Vanessa.” I smiled at the older woman as I took in her appearance. She sat with her ankles crossed and her hands folded on her lap. Her curly gray hair sat in place on the top of her head while numerous wrinkled framed her face. Her green eyes were alive with excitement as she glanced down at the paper in my hand. I cleared my throat and walked the few steps over to her and extended my hands to her, welcoming her to take the letter from me. “I found this in what I thought to be an old pocket watch in my hometown antique store. I opened it while I was still at the store and found this letter folded up inside. I knew immediately that I had to return it to its rightful owner.
I paused when I saw the woman’s eyes fill up with tears. She read the letter and, after a few moments, managed to choke out a response. “I forgot he wrote me this letter. You have made an old woman so happy. Thank you for bringing my Robert back to me.”
Before leaving, I gave Betty a hug and then passed along my information to the granddaughter.
“We’ll be sure to keep in touch,” the granddaughter said as she held open the front door. “Thank you again for bringing so much joy back into my grandmother’s life. I could see just from her reading the letter how much she loved my pappy.”
“I’m happy to have been the one who found it.” I exited the house and with one last wave I walked toward the cab idling at the end of the sidewalk.
After giving the airport address to the cab driver, I began daydreaming about the last few lines of the letter:
“I know I’ve told you this many times when we’re together, but when we’re apart I realize how much I miss you being in my arms. I can never thank you enough for always taking great care of me and for loving me for as long as you have. I can’t wait to be home.
Loving you always,
Robert”
I watched cars passing us by from my backseat window as I repeated the last lines in my head. I stared down at my bare left hand and silently wished that I could find someone who loves me just as much Robert and Betty loved each other.
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