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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2266164-Life-Goes-On
Rated: E · Fiction · Family · #2266164
The Writer's Cramp 1/28/22 W/C 658


The Cramp is 20 years old this week, so...

Write a poem or story about someone discovering a memento (photograph, carving, video file, magical doll, mysterious key, whatever!) from 20 years ago that reveals a secret (provides information, rekindles a forgotten memory, grants a vision, opens a locked door, etc).

How does this discovery change your character's understanding of the world / their life / their past?
What do they do in response?
What happens?


Life Goes On

Mother sat on the old flowered couch. She sat there all the time now, rarely moving. I visit weekly to make sure all is well since Mother is up in years. She wants to stay in her home, but she is getting more and more forgetful.

“You know I got a letter from George when he was over in Germany.” This comment came out of the blue. One moment we’re sitting, drinking tea, enjoying the quiet. I‘m about to go to sleep Next thing I know a blast from the past gets my full attention.

“You? Why you? You’re weren’t his mother. A mother-in-law-to-be, but he never hardly wrote to me when he was in the Army. Where is that letter?” I needed to read this. Just for curiosity’s sake. What did he write?

“Oh, I think it’s around somewhere. I don’t remember.” Mother returned to her puzzle book.

“I need to read it. What did it say?” I headed toward the spare room, where all treasures are stored.

“Something about your engagement. I think he wanted to break it off.”

Still, I was still; stopped in my tracks by this revelation.

“Be serious Mother. We got married, we had kids, we had a life.”

Mother glanced at me over top of her glasses. “Hmm. Well, that wasn’t so great was it.” She went back to puzzles.

Now I was confused, puzzled. George, the first love of my life, whom I promised to love and cherish. That news burned like a hot-red knife in my heart.

“Really, Mother. I need to read this. Where is that letter?” I sat beside her now.

“Well, let’s see. I think I have a box in the spare room. Full of papers. Some are for you, some for Janie, some for Bobbie. Unless I threw it away. Sometimes I throw things away then wish I hadn’t. There was that one time I pitched the electric bill…”

I flew to the spare room. Sure enough, in the closet, on the top shelf, behind the old hats, sat a brown box. I took it down to check. There were letters to me, to and from Janie, stuff for Bobbie. If it wasn’t for me, it went to a plastic bag. Janie didn’t ever come around, Bobbie lived in Japan. I sorted and sorted.

Finally, there was a letter to Mother from George dated in 2002. It still sat in the military envelope. I ripped it open.

Mrs.Huntington,

I hope all is well back in the states. It’s pretty quiet here. So quiet I’ve been doing some soul searching.

I don’t think I can come back and marry Marcie. But I know she’ll be upset if I send her a letter. So, let me know what you think.

Thanks for your time,
George Wilson

Arrghh! I yelled, then ripped up that letter. After two kids, a marriage of seventeen years, and then that divorce, I now find out it could have all been avoided? Too bad he’s dead, because I would march over to him right now and would, well, what would I do? Too late.

“Mother! Why in the world didn’t you tell me about this?” I showered her with letter pieces.

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a wad. It’s over and done. Water under the bridge. What’s done is done. Let sleeping dogs lie. When life…”

I still couldn’t believe it. “Stop with the platitudes! You could have saved me seventeen years of my life being married to that, that… you know.”

“What are you yelling about? Stop that and get me another cup of tea.” She returned to her puzzles.

“Don’t you care? Doesn’t it bother you?” I whined like a child.

“No dear. It doesn’t bother me. George is gone, you are here. Your kids are fine. Life continues on. Tea?”

I made a pot of tea. We talked. Life went on.


W/C 658





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