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Red

It is such a romantic notion, she is aware even at six.
She sits thoughtfully at her desk while the other children dig into writing their letters. Her words have to be chosen carefully. She wants to say the right things. The ones that will get a response.
She hopes her letter is found in a more difficult place to find and reach. She wants the person who reads it to put in the effort. That way if her words are wrong, they will remember how they got it and appreciate her effort.
She takes her pencil to paper and she finds the words that leave her satisfied.
The letters are attached to balloons. The whole school of children first creates a sea with their bodies on the front lawn and then in the sky when they release the 500 balloons.
She has seen this on TV. It does not compare to standing there, watching it.
Hers is one of only three letters answered. It was found on a beach, half-buried in the sand amid a plain of driftwood among the rocky sides of a cliff. The man said his eyes barely caught the colour of red.
I have ever since left things where they might be found. Some much more obvious then others.

Comments

cbeck said…
The things I wish I would have left alone!
Saturday, 5 June 2004 at 05:04:00 GMT-4
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