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Over the last few days, she’d found herself thinking about John, her pen-pal, wondering if he got her box and was pleased with it or thought it stupid of her. There was no doubting it, she was inherently insecure and shy.
She thought of him often, which struck her as odd because he was a stranger – but to her, he was a safe stranger in her mind. He was on the other side of the planet. She never had to worry about a weirdo showing up or confronting her. She found it almost therapeutic to write to him, scribbling notes here and there for her to share with him. It’s like she was composing a letter that she didn’t intend to send. Last night’s letter was a prime example…
John,
I hope you and Radar are doing well. Today I spent the day at the animal shelter hugging and feeding the animals. My best friend, Sherry, passed away unexpectedly some time ago and I was just devastated. She had such a loving, giving heart and used to take in strays all the time. I don’t know how she did it, but she did.
Sometimes, I will find a photo on my phone of us and it brings back those memories. I miss her. I hope you have someone you can turn to and call a friend. It’s hard when there is no one…I know. Tomorrow, I have the entire day to myself and I don’t know what to do with it. It’s crushing some days. I miss having a friend to talk to and these letters have really perked me up. I hope you don’t mind. I decided that instead of a pity party of one, I was going to spend the day laying in a pool in my backyard.
Take care,
Lily
It was casual and truthful. She looked forward to writing and hoped he would mail her back. Just something, anything, to give her something to be happy about. She was lonely and it was eating at her. Just then, she thought of an idea. She took her phone and took a photo of her backyard. Just the corner of it where it was protected from the sun by a huge oak tree. She’d show him the greenery since he couldn’t see it himself. She almost took a picture of herself but decided against it. The man was probably not interested, and she was in a fanciful mood since she had a date with her romance book.
The picture wasn’t bad at all; in fact, it was pretty spectacular. Her birdbath shimmered in the sunlight, showing the iridescent bottom, and all her roses were blooming around it perfectly. She had several roses; a climber called Joseph’s coat with a brilliant striped petal that she had tethered to her privacy fence, but near the birdbath was a teeny rose that bloomed prolifically- a fairy rose. Small, pink baby button roses glittered all over a green bush. A few terracotta pots were strategically placed to look almost like a cascading water fountain, except she had succulent plants that hung over the lip of each pot beautifully.
Satisfied, she airdropped the photo to her printer and prayed she had enough color ink for it. As it printed slowly, she grabbed a towel and a bottle of suntan lotion, getting ready to walk out into the back yard where the pool water had been warming in the sun. The kiddie pool wasn’t very large at all, but it was enough to cool her down. She heard the mail slot on her front door squeak open and the flop of envelopes onto the tile entryway. She padded over barefoot and immediately grabbed the first letter that stood out.
He’d wrote her!
She tore open the envelope and devoured it, pouring over the words, and then re-reading it again just to make sure she’d not missed anything. Poor thing had broken his finger! She was glad his dog enjoyed the treats she’d sent. She could almost imagine the bitter yearning for something that reminded him of home. She felt it deep in her gut, that wistfulness that tore at her – yearning for companionship. She re-read the letter, her eyebrow arching.
Mr. Hogan? What is he talking about? Is he trying to find out if she’s got a husband or boyfriend?She thought mystified, and sat down hard on the couch.Why?He’d never even see a photo of her and today was the first time she’d thought of even sending him something. What did he look like? Was he nice, young, old, short, tall? She had no idea, but maybe this was the friendship she was looking for – maybe he needed a friend too. She would have to think on how to answer his letter. This was weird, and she had so many questions flying through her head right now! She lay the letter down on the coffee table and stepped away from it – gathering up her towel and book.
Laying in the water on her back in the shallow water, she rested her neck on the inflatable sides and propped her ankles on the other side. She slipped her sunglasses on and lay there basking in the warm sun…. thinking. She tried to read her book but kept wondering about John. What was he really like? Was he a good man, a Christian man? And that little niggling voice in the back of her mind kept whispering to her: was he good looking?
Aggravated, she got up and practically tore into the house. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she had an answer, and that answer would take two to three weeks. She picked up the photo, testing to see if the ink had dried. She then did the unimaginable.
She took a selfie in her bikini top.
Frowning, she stared at it. Completely critical of how she looked, overanalyzing her features and wishing for what would simply not come. She wasn’t a super model, nor was she thin like other girls. She was curvy, with voluptuous curves that better suited styles from the fifties with their high waisted tight pants and wide skirts. Her nose was covered in freckles and she wished her eyelashes were thicker, and began to laugh at herself. Out of everything, she wished for thicker eyelashes and a thinner shaped face.
Sighing, she took comfort in knowing that she was made exactly how she was supposed to be – and if he was worth knowing, then he would simply have to be okay with it. Friends saw the inside, she thought; they didn’t focus on the outside – and decided not to print her photo.
Chicken, she thought. Folding the printed picture, she carefully put a clean sheet of paper with it so if the ink transferred, it would still resemble something recognizable. She then took out another sheet of paper and wrote him. She was candid and forthright, almost to the point of bluntness without trying to be rude.
Hello John,
I hope this letter finds you well. I must admit, I am a bit surprised you asked if there was a Mr. Hogan? No, there is no one. I am single (if I’ve read between the lines correctly) and am assuming you are as well. I confess, I have eagerly written a few times but haven’t mailed them to you – but perhaps I shall. I spend most of my time at the school during the year, but that won’t be starting for another month or so.
What do you do in the military that took you to Afghanistan? Tell me about yourself. Hold nothing back please: habits, hobbies, temperament, beliefs, and what you look like. What brought you to have Radar at your side? Radar is a very curious name, so I’m sure there is a story there too as well. How on earth did you break your finger? I am truly sorry to hear this and imagine it hurts quite a bit.
I have included a photo of my garden in the backyard. You seem to have a keen affinity for plants, as I do, so I thought I would share them. Do you have email or texting capabilities, since letters are tremendously slow? It might be better to assuage my curiosity or deal with any concern you or I might have that comes up, between mailings.
As for myself, I am thirty-two years old with glasses. I have long brown hair and just over five feet tall. Nothing spectacular and pretty average. I thought about sending a photo but decided against it. It’s not necessary if we are to be good friends and pen pals. I could use a friend and assume you could as well.
I look forward to hearing from you soon.
God bless,
Lily
Staring at the letter, she scribbled her personal email at the bottom and her cell number. Her hand trembled as she realized that he could be anyone in the world and what she was doing could be dangerous if the situation changed and he came to the states. If that was the case, she would change her number immediately. She folded the letter and stamped it. She’d mail it tomorrow and perhaps pick up something to send with it.
“I must be insane,” she muttered aloud to herself in disbelief at her boldness and her actions. Nothing ventured, nothing gained – so why did she feel like Daniel in the lion’s den, frightened, yet confident at the same time that her path was being guided from Above.
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