TITLE: Finding Grace
GENRE: Literary Fiction
I didn't ascribe to theories of destiny but on the day that I found myself sitting in my old room going through eight boxes of memorabilia, I knew my life would somehow change. I knew this because the mere sight of the letter that I was holding had sent my head spinning and my heart racing and I suddenly felt that despite what I believed, maybe destiny believed in me.
I instantly recognized it by the way it was folded and how my name was scribbled on the front, in his handwriting. It was the only thing I had ever received from him in writing. I unfolded it slowly, aware of the deep creases where it had been opened and closed many times before, although not at all in the last eight years. The writing was slightly smudged in the middle and I remembered when a single teardrop had once fallen there. That was when my heart started racing and I realized I was holding my breath. No way would I read this. Why would I purposely torture myself? Why did I even still have it?
I guess I had my mother to blame for it. She was the kind of person who saved everything. My childhood was carefully contained in hefty storage totes separated into categories of artwork, special clothing, newspaper clippings, report cards and school papers. I did not inherit my mother’s sentimentalism.