Fear and Hope

Thursday never came. On Wednesday, he received another note.

Hello. . . nice talking with you. . . different than I imagined, better. . . sweet, I think (though your humor. . .)

But I am not going to be able to keep our lunch date. . . moving to CALIFORNIA. . . should not have come back after college. . . easy, but I do not fit in this southern hamlet. . . . am going west to new opportunities.

If it were possible at all, I would find some way to meet you, but. . .will keep an eye on you through your website (so you’d better behave). . .you can always come see me if you are in Cali.

And so for now I leave with much hope, a little anxiety, a lot of excitement, and some regret.

Until we next meet. . . .

The letter smelled of berries and rain.

His friend was right. Her father was an architect. Their circles had occasionally overlapped. He did not know the man well. He was a few years younger, had been married to the same woman for many years, had three daughters, etc.

After a moment, he let the letter drop to the desktop, shook his head and gave a rueful laugh.

The cat had been bumping his leg seeking his attention for awhile, but by the time he reached for her, she had drifted across the room toward the door.

“The things we worry about,” he thought, “are usually pretty silly. The same might be said of our hopes. They are just two sides of a very small coin.”


Having thought that pleased him for the moment. He reached out his hand to turn the knob, but before he could get the door fully opened, like a quick puff of smoke, she was gone.