Dean Traylor is a freelance writer and teacher who writes about various subjects, including education and creative writing.
He stopped writing. For some reason, Dave felt sick to his stomach as he wrote her name on a yellow page from a notepad.
He pushed on despite the illness he felt.
“It's been three years and two month....”
He stopped again. Was it that long? He remembered that moment fondly when he met her. The moment didn’t last long before the sourness kicked in. Then last year happened, bringing that rocky relationship to a crash.
He tried to continue despite the intrusion of those harsh memories.
Why do I want to start it off like that? He thought to himself, trying to keep his mind off his stomach
“Since I first met you…”
That sick feeling returned. This time, he felt his bile churning in his stomach with every word formed by the action of the black pen spilling his feelings on paper.
Why do I want to start it off like that? He thought to himself, trying to keep his mind off his stomach. Three years and two months. Big Deal! They haven't been talking for a long time.
“A long time,” he sighed.
In truth, that “long time” was broken about an hour ago before he sat down at his dining table to compose this letter.
Heidi's phone call threw him for a loop. And he was there with a notepad trying to contemplate her plea to return and rekindle whatever was left between the two.
After a year of trying to survive a break-up, she came back into his life, uninvited. It took a year recoup. Now, Dave was an emotional train wreck. He was teetering on the verge of accepting her plea to let her back in his life.
He thought a letter expressing his mixed-up feelings would help him clear his head and possibly rekindle something that had been taken away so abruptly one Monday afternoon.
Yet, as he took a long, hard look at the relationship, the struggle inside became an all-out war. Part of him said “yes!” The other side screamed “no!”
The memories kept playing in his head, showing him the right decision to make. And, after the memories ran its course, an epiphany hit him. He knew what to do.
He thought a letter expressing his mixed-up feelings would help him clear his head
He tore out the paper, wadded it up , and slammed dunked it in the wastebasket. A burden was lifted from his tortured mind.
"No need to salvage that," he said to himself.
He got up from the kitchen table. That sick feeling in his stomach now became pangs of hunger. He never thought such a feeling would be so inviting.
Letting go never felt so good. Putting the past was simply the right thing to do, he thought as he opened the refridgerator.
He sighed with relief as memories of Heidi went back to the far reaches of his mind.
© 2022 Dean Traylor