Writing 101- Day 5- Be Brief
Something is wrong with me. I think I’m really supposed to be a boy. I don’t know what to do. Please don’t tell Dad.
I stare at the crumpled, streaked piece of paper. The printing is neat and precise, obviously written with care, in purple ink which is smudged in spots. The paper appears to be torn from a notebook. It is pink with hearts and flowers lining the border.
I smooth it out carefully across my lap, studying it for a clue as to who is the sender or recipient.
Did Kerri ever give it to her mom? Or was it laying here on the sidewalk crumpled and discarded out of fear?
Did some mother unknowingly receive this note, unsure what to expect, not knowing that her life could possibly be altered forever? Did she take it seriously or pass it off as another difficult stage in her hormonal daughter’s life?
I look at the words for so long that they no longer resemble anything familiar ? They are a jumble of letters, making no sense. A splash on the heart paper startles me from my thoughts. I blink once. Twice.
My tears land on the note, mixing with streaks that already make some of the words fuzzy. I wonder if those streaks are the tears of the mother or child? My heart aches for both.
NOTE: This story is based on a letter that Kris left for me one time but that’s a post for another time.