Subject:  Love Letters 2 - Expectation |
Author:
Jasmine
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Date Posted: 07:10:45 03/16/01 Fri
In reply to:
Jasmine
's message, "Love Letters ...A Different Idea" on 06:55:04 03/16/01 Fri
The response I was waiting for arrived on a day that turned out to be dark and stormy…just like my thoughts. I never imagined I could be so sensitive to the environment around me, but the green landscapes surrounding the estate seemed to be covered in a blanket of darkness that mimicked my gloomy mood.
I turned around at a slight sound and my eyes fell on my beautiful son, his dark eyes so like his mother’s as he walked slowly to me and held up his hands in silent demand. As I reached down to pick him up in my arms I gently kiss the top of his head. Walking over to the couch I sit down and hold him closely to me. I close my eyes and I see the soft, gentle expression I know would be on her face if she could see the picture of the two of us.
Sighing deeply I mentally count the days and wonder if she’s had a chance to respond to my letter to her. I imagine the smile on her face as she closes her eyes and envisions me sitting at a computer pouring my heart out to her. Then I see her scan her room full of priceless flowers as testament to my love for her and then resume reading on paper what came from the deepest part of my heart.
Perhaps it’s imagining her that makes my mood sad, my step listless, my heart ache. Whatever the reason, Adam senses it and in that engaging way he has he offers his father a hug. Holding him tightly and inhaling his sweet scent, I pull him closer and think that there is only one thing missing…her here with us. As if Adam knows my thought he pulls away from me and gives me a serious, adult look and offers his comfort to me.
“It’s okay, Daddy.”
“I know.” I say as I reach up a hand to smooth his hair back and wish I knew what he was thinking. For someone whose been parted from me for a year and a half he’s managed to pick up a few of what she would call my bad habits. I can’t read him as well as I would like to, but that will come with time. I often wonder if my frustration at my inability to reach him is like hers was for so many years because of her inability to reach me. Those thoughts lead me to others that make my heart clench with longing as I contemplate the things she would do to be able to reach him like she did with me.
Sighing at the unproductiveness of my thoughts I stand up from the couch with my son and lead him through the house and up the stairs to his room where we usually spend at least an hour playing a game of his choice. I enjoy this time of the day where I can focus my attention solely on him and his happiness as he shows me how intelligent he is by naming all of the different types of cars and trucks in the book we purchased a few days ago. It doesn’t take him long to get tired and I lay him down for his nap, hoping that he will have pleasant dreams and not the nightmares that wake him up and send him running to me for comfort of his fears.
Leaving the door slightly ajar I walk away quietly and make my way down the stairs to my study. My eyes automatically go to the picture I have of her on my desk. It’s a recent one that Walter sent to me, instinctively knowing that I would treasure the keepsake. Sometimes I think it’s insensitive of me to have pictures of her and not of Elena sitting on my desk, but I’ve long ago given up the habit of lying to myself. I cared for Elena. How could I not, she was the mother of my beautiful son. Unfortunately, she was never the woman that I could love with all my heart, mind, and soul. I no longer feel guilty by those feelings because I know that if I had been given the option, the lie I lived with Elena for so many years never would have been my choice. As I stare at the picture I smile slightly at the mysterious, beguiling eyes staring back at me. It’s one of my favorites and it is one of a numerous collection that I have scattered throughout the house. None of them are in a place that Adam goes, but I feel that even if he did, he wouldn’t mind. He loved his mother and he loves her, and I understand that it doesn’t need to be any more complicated than that. If he ever asks me why that’s what I’ll tell him.
I sit at my desk and I think that she would be proud of how far I’ve come from the cold, shell of a man she used to know. Basking in thoughts of her, I turn on the laptop and it only seems appropriate that the letter I’ve been waiting a week to receive has finally arrived. Memorizing, Walter’s instructions I erase the message and rise from my chair when I realize the special delivery service is about to arrive with what will be one of my most treasured possessions.
Just as I reach the door, the doorbell rings and I wait a few minutes, staring out the concealing curtain at the courier who has dropped the package and left to finish his deliveries. When the van is out of sight, I open the door and retrieve the brown envelope full of various envelopes and head back to my study to sort them out. I open the envelope with measured patience and quickly sort through all of the business mail, not even blinking at the eighty thousand dollar check I received for the last plan I presented via email on a security system improvement that apparently worked extremely well. Sighing in relief I finally see the letter at the bottom of the stack and push all the other envelopes aside as I pick it up, carefully open the flap, and extract the thick, neatly typed and folded sheets placed on the inside. Leaning back in my chair I began to read what would be her first love letter to me.
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