The 21st of August 1941 – Germantown, Maryland

(found in a dusty trunk in a dusty attic, tucked beneath this letter)

Mama, dear,

I don’t know what the fuss is about. I’d really wish you would just calm down, Mama, please.

This isn’t rushed, and this isn’t crazy, not at all. It makes perfect sense to me.

You keep asking me what it is about him, a lot of people have, and all those questions make a lot of sense.

See, I couldn’t say easily whenever you or anyone else asked. I don’t think I can even say it now, but I can tell you this.

For everyone that I’ve ever met, I’ve found some little annoyance about them within the first five minutes of the first conversation. It’s usually nothing all that important, nothing that just makes me absolutely hate the person. It’s just the simple realization that the two of us are incongruous human beings and our relationship will be limited somehow, whatever it was destined to be. It’s just the awareness on my part that there’s this little lace veil shimmering between us and keeping us apart.

But not with James, Mama. Not with James at all. With him, everything was just instantaneous. The attraction was there from the start, and it was just attraction. It was something magnetic, nothing sexual or romantic, even. It was just the feeling that every time I saw this person I would end up talking to him until them until the sun went down and came back up and went back down again. It was the awareness that, for as long as I lived, I’d care about this person, this friend.

It’s a weird feeling to have, mama, even today. It’s a weird feeling to have because it’s coupled with this voice in the back of my head whispering that it’s all just wrong. But, Mama, it was an especially weird feeling to have when staring at the back of a little boy’s head in junior high.

But I trust the feeling, Mama.

I do worry sometimes about what it would have felt like, to have felt all of this and not even get a chance to experience it. What if that door had slammed right in my face instead of letting me through to a seat at the table?

That’s what I worry about, Mama. That’s what really gives me the shivers. But, now Mama, that didn’t happen.

So I’d really wish you would just calm down.

Love,

Linda

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3 comments

  1. Love this letter, so beautifully put ‘It was the awareness that, for as long as I lived, I’d care about this person,’
    Love the way how she said – but I trust the feeling
    And the ending too is classic!

    Enjoyed this post.

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