One Million Steps

With my hands clutching the letter so hard my knuckles hurt, I couldn't move. I remembered how many times I had said how movies were always so clichéd and how much I hated that. This was one of those moments. I finally understood the reason why all the movies are all alike. They were just like this. This was just worse. Because I wasn't watching it in the cinema or the television screen in the living room downstairs. Because it was happening to me.

I decided to change this particular movie scene of my life. I moved onto my bed, accidentally stepping on the chilled hot chocolate on the wooden floorboards. I paused to stare at my foot just inches above the puddle with brown liquid dripping, slowly but peacefully, and immediately retreated to discarded rag in the corner of the room. I reached down for the rag, still refusing to let go of that small piece of hope in my hand.

Sitting cross-legged on my bed and the envelope with the small heart on the cover staring at me, I asked myself for the millionth time that day if taking the letter was the right decision. And every single time, I answered out loud. Whether it was just a soft inaudible whisper or a loud outburst of energy from my mouth, I always answered aloud, clear and positive. Every time just loud enough to reassure myself whenever I was about to change my mind.

But when I was given the opportunity to finally read the letter, I couldn't. I could hear the 'Yes' screaming back at me in my head but the 'No!' was much louder and it was hard to ignore it. I fought it. And I knew what I had to do.

If I was fighting so hard just to ignore the 'No!' in my head, it meant I wanted to do it! I was willing to open it but I was the only thing stopping myself. Without those little voices in my head, the envelope would be torn to shreds, the letter would be unfolded on my bed, crumpled and tear-stained. The only thing stopping me was...myself.

And I hated it! I hated it with every aching bone in my body. The whole fourteen years of my life had been filled with missed opportunities, bad decisions and wishful thinking. Not this time!

My hand stopped millimeters from the envelope flap and rethought it...again.

"Yes, I'm doing this!" I muttered aloud, almost shouting, an adrenaline rush of anger and fear and guilt washing over me all of a sudden.

Seeing as it was already open, my fingers scrambled for the piece of paper sitting inside. I pulled it out. An aroma of lavender and honey engulfed my nose. I breathed in the scent. I unfolded the letter to reveal writing similar to the one on the envelope. My heart jumped. No, not jumped, leaped.

The tears in my eyes blurred my vision but I didn't care. This letter was all I had. The only thing my mother and I had both touched in the same 24 hours for almost 12 years. I squinted to read the writing, making the tears in my eyes fall to the smooth surface. blinking away the tears, it read : My dear husband and my two beautiful daughters...