The last two posts didn't seem to pull my readers into a new year full of words and excitement, so here is another offering from the confused mind of sugar-laden lady. What do you think?
Some days, I realized I needed to be more organized. On this
particular day, I had already searched all of the logical places for a receipt
that I needed. Without it, the office wouldn’t reimburse the cost of my recent
business trip. My search finally brought me to my hall closet where all my
scraps of paper went to be forgotten. I grabbed the top box, quickly setting it
aside as removing the lid sent up a cloud of glitter from Christmas cards of
years past.
Stepping further into the closet, I pulled another shoebox
from the stack. The boxes on top of it plopped to the floor, spilling papers
around my feet. I glanced at them before opening the box in my hand, tossing
the lid to the floor as I scanned the contents. Only a couple of receipts nestled
among old letters and newspaper clippings.
“Where did I put that receipt?” I grumbled as I knelt down
to reclaim the box lid.
My name leaped out from one of the spilled papers. I frowned
at the unfamiliar handwriting, reaching for the folded page with one hand as
the box slipped from the other. My mouth twisted as I scanned the tightly
penned words on the page.
My beloved Bella,
Thank you so much for teaching me what love is. I cannot
wait to hold you in my arms again. I know my words will never be as eloquent as
yours, so I close this brief letter with the three most important words I have
ever said: I Love You.
Always,
James
I scanned the letter again. Who is James? I’ve never seen this letter before.
I picked up the envelope on top of the pile and looked at
it. My mouth dropped open. JUL 15 2020
I rubbed my eyes, and looked at the date again. JUL 15 2020 BALTIMORE
“How can that be?”
As I pushed myself up from the floor, a cascade of boxes
tumbled toward me. My own voice falsely echoed my words.
“Where can that be?”
As I turned toward the voice, which could not be mine, a
hazy form snapped into focus. My own face with seven more years of living
parodied my mother’s except for the laughter in those dark eyes.
“Oh?” My aged self surveyed me for a moment. “Is this the
day that happens?”
My own tongue remained glued to the top of my mouth.
“I know you’re confused and a little scared, Bella, but I
have five minutes to tell you how to make your dreams come true, so listen to
me. First, never ever completely clean this closet. Those jokes about marines
being lost in here aren’t true, but something else seems to be happening. Don’t
fall in love with the first guy who claims he loves you or the second or the
third. Wait until work sends you on a trip to Baltimore. You’ll meet James
there. Don’t sweat it, he’ll get your number.”
As her words gushed out, she began to fade. Offering one
final piece of advice, she disappeared. “Don’t worry so much. I will love you
no matter what, and so will he.”
I looked back down at my hand but found it empty. Papers
still lined the floor of the closet, but each one possessed a date from the
past not the future.
“Don’t sweat it?” I asked myself as I began raking the pages
together and stuffing them untidily into shoe boxes.
Stunned I stepped back into the smaller bedroom I used as an
office. As I sank heavily into the wooden chair in front of my ancient desktop,
I noticed a slip of paper draped across the monitor. I picked it up, idly
realizing I had found my receipt. My confused mind noted it before wandering
back to the advice of my future self.
In seven years, I’ll
be in love…with a man from Baltimore?
