the letter
Dearest,
As I sit here listening to the pelting rain against the window and the wind howling through the trees, I try to reason. I try to think clearly, try to weigh the depth of two questions which we face. I weigh them in seconds, in days, in pounds of love… even pounds of sadness. Sometimes they weigh heavily. And other times, they are like the wings of a butterfly, light, a mere flutter with the timing of our two hearts beating in sync.
There are so many questions that remain unanswered… too many, far too complicated to write about here. Or are they? Are we being cowards? Isn’t it time to be adults now? If we should dare to… a whole new world might emerge before us and alter our old, firm, inbred conceptions of what our “now” should be. You are hiding away, afraid. I’m trying to make a decision for both of us. Where the hell are you? And why have you left this all to me?
Ah, the moment of truth! It’s finally here, isn’t it! In store is a big box of mysteries... like Pandora’s Box. Some of those mysteries may be tragic, others are certainly lovely and may reveal a new, free, wonderful life for us. My imaginings of those mysteries which may come out of our box, once opened, once faced…are no less frightening than are the others which can bring hope and delight to us. If we dare!
There’s an uncertainty about this moment of truth. But now it’s time! They’re bearing down hard, they’re forcing our verbal and mental incapacities to become altered, distorted with their own prejudices. I know if we continue on this path, we will regret it. Because long unsaid things, long pent up emotions could, or perhaps would, turn loose in a flood of inconceivable options. Not inconceivable to me. Nor to you. But to them. The families! And haven’t they insisted that my life and yours are “supposed” to be patterned with theirs, after their lives? Are we that weak? Do we lack all sense of our own selves, our own independence?
Why does it matter to them that my skin is black and yours is not? Why does color disable our ability to love? Does is matter to you what other people think of us, say about us? Would we be happier if we parted and each found another that was “suitable”, that would not shame our families?
Do you care very much where you pray? Or where I pray? Or that we pray at all??? Why are we even considering what anyone else wants for us? Are you not tired of hiding? Of pretending? I know I am. I think you must be too.
Yes. That is the first question. What is the real value of our own lives and who places what price on them? Can you answer that for me?
Then the real, second question. Isn’t the price of love the highest, most precious ever? By now, of course we know it is. Or at least I know it is! Are we not ready to be courageous? Are we ready to accept that the price of our love might ultimately have to be be paid in nothing less than an abundance of salty tears? It’s time, my dearest!
I am ready for the battle. Are you with me? Or should I leave you as I’ve said I would? I have told you what I want. And I am tired of this. It is your decision now. I shall wait to receive your letter… with your answer.
Until then…
© Joan A. Evans 2018 All rights reserved
