The air was heavy, filled with the moisture of an approaching storm, tracking in from the north. It was odd though, nothing was showing on the radar. He picked up the envelope, that was laying on the kitchen table, folded it in half and slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans. As he went out the back door, he flipped the light switch off, grabbed the truck keys and headed down the steps.
The old white 1971 Chevy pickup was waiting for him as it had been doing for more than 40 years. Like he had done for nearly that many years, he patted the dash and said the words, "Good morning sweetheart.", as he slid into the drivers' seat. And, like the gentle beast she was, her engine roared to life with the turn of the key. He dropped the gear shift into drive and started down the lane. When he got to the main road, he made a right, away from town. There was only one place he needed to be right now. It had been a long time since he had been there.
The wind picked up just as he turned into the tree covered lane. The hedge trees made a canopy over the road that looked like a tunnel of green. Suddenly their leaves were flying through the air, like kites without tails, twirling, spiraling out of control, being only at the mercy of the wind that carried them. Then he heard the first ping. Another and another. It was hail. He turned the wipers on high as a torrent of rain and small pellets of ice burst through the the canopy overhead.
He shook his head, where had this storm come from? As he emerged from the end of the tunnel of green, as if on cue, the rain stopped. In another half mile, the sun was peeking out from the edge of the darkness, as the freak storm and its sinister black cloud continued to move to the south. He drove the truck through an opening in the fence that led to an old abandoned house. The old house sat high on a bluff and although it had been many years since the yard surrounding it had been cared for, there were still traces of a long forgotten path that led to a spot behind the house. It was there that he parked the truck. He looked out over the river valley below. Plowed fields, some with a newly planted crop made a checkerboard pattern across the river bottom. The bluff, on the other side of the river, welcomed him like a long lost friend. A friend who had been waiting patiently, ready to pick up where they had last left off.
He sat for several minutes, soaking up the view. It always gave him a sense of great comfort, knowing that in the grand scheme of things, this one scenic view made him feel safe and protected. A trickle of water slid down the windshield and for a brief moment, as it passed through a sliver of sunshine, a small rainbow ran across the back of his hand, still resting on the steering wheel.
He turned the key off and the truck fell silent. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the envelope. He turned it over in his hands, wondering. He wondered where it had come from. It had been in the mailbox that morning. Nothing else had been in there and there was no postage or address or return address on it. Only the words, "this is for you", scrawled across the front in a cursive handwriting that looked like it might have been written by a young child. He unfolded the envelope and turned it over one more time, then reached into his front jean pocket and retrieved a small pocket knife. He never went anywhere without that knife. He slipped the blade into the top edge of the envelope and cut through it. He took a deep breath and as he reached inside the opening, he let the air rush out of his lungs with a loud sigh.
It was a single piece of paper, folded in thirds. When he opened it, the same simple handwriting, that was on the envelope, greeted him. It read, "You are the most wonderful person I know. I love you so much. You are so smart! You are so creative! I marvel at all the things you have accomplished. Others do too! You have no idea how many people hold you in such high esteem. You brighten a room when you enter. Your smile lifts the burden of a heavy heart. Your eyes twinkle with such delight, that others long for you to cast your glance their way. Maybe it hasn't always been cupcakes with sprinkles, but those are the times that have made you who you are today. Troubles have a way of knocking off the rough edges to reveal the true beauty inside. An old sage once said that a person's life was simply a journey back to where they had come from. Enjoy the journey, you have not failed, there is always more to come, more to do. Look forever forward, I'm always there for you. Love you much."
A tear rolled down his cheek. He had no idea who wrote it, but it had come at a time that his heart was nearly at a breaking point. To know that he was loved by some weird, bad handwriting, whatever or whoever, gave him a glimmer of hope. His heart could feel the healing beginning.
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