Tiny Stories: There is a Letter…

Popular belief has it that the universe is comprised of atoms. In reality, the universe is actually made up of…

In my sock drawer, there is a hiding space behind a row of what my father calls grave socks as in one foot in the grave because they either do not have a match, are riddled with holes, threadbare at the toes and heels, or the ankle elastic has given up their hold on life. In that hiding space, there is a letter written carefully in a mixture of cursive and print. In that letter, are words, feelings, emotions, and admissions that a boy would never say directly to a girl’s face, not even on a double-dog dare.

On a bicycle, there is a shy paperboy who, even though I have not responded to his first letter yet, would write me another letter, I am sure of it, reminding me of our time in the park. In that park, there is a rum cherry tree under which I made a promise to the shy paperboy of seven minutes in heaven.

In my closet, on an afternoon when no one is home, I make good on my promise with the shy paperboy. In the dark, my mind is filled with a sort of scary, sort of awkward fireworks that I can see but cannot hear because my heart is pounding so fast and loud that I swear the shy paperboy can hear it.

In that kiss, there is something I do not have words for, something that drops my guard completely, makes me feel truly comfortable with the shy paperboy and I am desperate to let him see me in my entirety.

In that feeling, I am crying harder than I ever have before, harder than I even knew I could, crying past the point when I run out of tears. In the tearless sobs, my breath is hitching and I realize that this is most likely the happiest and most terrified I will ever feel in my life.

In the silence, after the kiss and the tears, the overwhelming and slightly painful joy is replaced by the sound of a key sliding into a lock, the tumbling of a bolt, and the jangling of a woman’s metal bracelets.

In the house, there is a mother who will tan not only my hide but the shy paperboy’s as well, if she ever finds out I have company without permission and especially if my room door is closed and that company is a boy who is in my room.

In the window, there is a scared paperboy climbing out and mumbling a prayer that he does not hurt himself or make a sound when he drops a story to the ground below.

In my mother’s eyes, there is suspicion when she opens the door and enters my room, catching me rushing to shut the window, cutting off the cool breeze even though I am dripping with sweat.

In my mind, there is a list of excuses that I cannot find in the clutter of thoughts so I just stare at my mother as innocently as I can manage, as she walks past me and opens the window, about to stick her head out to inspect the backyard.

In my mouth, there is a fib, “A wasp!” I say just a bit too forcefully and I build on it by telling her there was a wasp in the room so I closed the door to stop it from getting into the rest of the house and I managed to chase it out and shut the window behind it.

In the moments that tick by too slowly, my mother glances at the window again, then at my face before turning to leave but as she reaches the door, she stops and says, “You should probably find a better hiding place. Your father’s been talking about throwing out your grave socks and you wouldn’t want him finding that letter, would you? And the no company without permission rule stands no matter how sweet a boy’s words are or how much your heart aches for him, understood?”

In the end, I realize I am not as clever as I think I am, nor is my mother that foolish or unreasonable and I discover a newfound respect for her as I answer, “Yes, ma’am.”

35 responses to “Tiny Stories: There is a Letter…

  1. This made me smile all the way through. Young love and first love letters are heart-touching and hopeful. It’s a shame when we grow out of these simple acts of beauty. Oh, and props to Mom for not spoiling the notion of love for her daughter! Excellent story, Rhyan!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Aw, man… Here I was, contemplating my gloomy Sunday night, and you had to come along and ruin it with something beautiful! How I remember my childhood crushes, none of whom had any idea I was madly in love with them. This is a sweet story that had me grinning unapologetically at the end. So glad Mom didn’t crush the girl’s young heart. Hopefully there was a rose bush or two to cushion the shy paperboy’s fall. And hopefully the girl finds a better hiding place for that special letter. Great stuff, Rhyan. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • Story of my life, Mike, always busting up someone’s gloomy Sunday night with posts about young love. Mea culpa. I’ll try to restrain myself in the future. Cheers for the read and compliment. Always greatly appreciated.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. This actually reads like a young girl has written it. Kudos to you, Rhyan! Every word, feeling, and inhibition is so clear and crisp. Daughters think they are smarter but mothers are the ones who let them wrongly believe so. A great story with a lot of heart. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Sometimes you come across things at the right time. I woke up in the wee hours of the morning and this is usually an indication for me that my spirit needs to be nourished with goodness and that’s exactly what this story is! ❤️❤️🙏🏾

    Liked by 1 person

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