Creative Writing Now - The Letter

Momma was standing in the kitchen watching over a pot of boiled eggs.  If there is one thing Momma knows how to do its boiling eggs.  For breakfast every morning we each eat two hard boiled eggs along with some crispy bacon or fried sausage.  Lunch time almost always consists of egg salad sandwiches with chopped up celery.  And for dinner.  Yep, that’s right.  Some sort of egg casserole or deviled egg .  

Thinking about the hard boiled eggs almost makes me forget the reason I came to the kitchen to talk to Momma.  This afternoon I was home alone and the house was really quiet.  I was sitting in my room working on some homework when I looked up and my eye caught something I’d never noticed.  I’ve lived in this room my entire 15 years on this earth and I’d never noticed the loose floor board peeking out from under my rug.

I walked over to investigate and as I moved the rug I realized that by putting a pencil in between the floor boards I could leverage it enough to make that loose floorboard pop up.  I removed the board and underneath it was a small wooden treasure chest.  It was painted a soft purple and had Momma’s name painted on the side of it.

When I took out the treasure box I set in on the floor in front of me.  As a teenage girl I looked at that box and thought only one thing. It must have something romantic inside.  Perhaps a love letter from my father or a pearl necklace my Momma inherited from her Momma. 

As I opened the box I gasped as I saw the faded envelope with Momma’s name on it.  I would have never thought my father to have done anything romantic in his entire life, but I guess I didn’t know him back then and he had to have won Momma’s heart somehow.         

I picked up the envelope and slowly pulled the letter out.  I opened it and began reading.  

August 3, 1963

Dear Beatrice,

I long for the day when this war is over and I can come home to you and begin our happily ever after together.  I have loved you from the first day we bumped into one another at Carl’s party.  Your auburn hair smelled of lilacs and those soft hazel eyes made me want to melt. My heart is forever yours and I will come back to you. I love you my Honey Bea.

              

            Forever Yours,

            Freddie Wilson

There were two things that I knew were very wrong with this letter.  First, it was dated 1963.  It must have been a mistake.  The current year is 1958. Maybe he mistakenly wrote 1963 rather than 1936 or something.  Second, Freddie Wilson is not my father.  I have never heard of him before.  But according to this letter he loved my Momma, and I'm guess she might have loved him too.

I had to get to the bottom of this.