*for those of you who got the rss feed of this post before i caught my error – i hope none of you were too shocked by the title “i couldn’t be” – cuz i ain’t.*
as i perused the internet yesterday i came across something that caused me to become nauseous and break out in a sweat, and no, it wasn’t snake related. it was this…
you see before bh and i were married he spent a semester of college in rome – italy, not texas. and how does young love survive such a separation? by writing letters, long passionate letters that you wouldn’t want your momma, much less a perfect stranger to read. and so i wrote everyday, even started writing a few weeks before he left so he wouldn’t have to wait too long to read all about how much i loved him and missed him and couldn’t live with out him and how, oh how, were we ever going to get through 4 months apart… i sent other things, too. care packages, my wisdom tooth, things like that so he wouldn’t forget me. and he didn’t. he came back and one thing led to another and we got married. one morning, a few years into our marriage, i get a phone call from a dear friend. see, my mother-in-law was having a garage sale and she’d stopped by to take a peak around. now bh lived at home until we got married and so he had some stuff still there and his mom, tired of storing it, was selling it, too. it might be important to mention that bh had gone over to lend his mom a hand. back to the phone call… it went something like this-
carrie (that’s my dear friend’s name) – “hey, have you seen everything that is for sale over here?”
me – “no, anything good?”
carrie – “well, this lady just took a handful of letters up to your husband and he sold them to her for a nickle.”
me – “i wonder what she wants with mona’s old correspondence?”
carrie – “uh, well, that’s sort of why i’m calling. they’re not mona’s. they’re your and bh’s. you know, the.letters.from.rome.”
me – gasp, gasp, gasp
carrie – “i grabbed the rest of them and hid them in my car, but that lady made out with a handful of them.”
me – “thanks, you’re my hero. you didn’t happen to write down her plates, did you?”
these are only the letters i wrote to him. i have all of the letters he wrote me (all 4 or so of them), hidden, put away, where they can’t accidentally get sold at a garage sale. his defense was he was in a selling groove, couldn’t stop, he loves a garage sale. so, somewhere in irving, tx – or i guess in the last 10 or so years she could have moved just about anywhere – are those letters. in the hand of a stranger. being shared with who knows who.
did i happen to mention i might have been inebriated when i wrote some of them? (mom, dad – i said might.)
and i did click the link, we can all breathe easy now, it has nothing to do with my letters.