The Dropped Note

Human beings, being a naturally curious species, in all things, -whether being a spectator on the highway to witness a car accident or even the child who curiously touches the fire, explains why I had to pick up the opened envelope, holding a letter, in the park that day. It had no return address, so I couldn't return it to the sender, and while it did have an addressee, after reading the letter, I understood why they would have cause to drop it or abandon it. And I understood why I shouldn't re-mail it to the recipient.

Perhaps the owner placed it in the overfilled park garbage container and it fell to the ground and blew away in the wind until it straddled the tree I found it under. It was handwritten. The writing was in plain print, not cursive or fancy. The letters were straight and neat, not too big and not too small. It was legible, perhaps well thought out, the writer wasn't in a hurry or an emotional wreck.

It read:

Dear Monte,

I'm glad you grew up in a loving home. I knew I couldn't give you one, but at least I know someone's prayers were answered. I didn't want to be found, not by you or anyone. I'd be lying if I told you that I wanted you, because the truth is, I didn't even want myself. I was reluctant in writing this letter, but realized I should give you an explanation since you were respectful enough to write to request to meet me, and I couldn't ignore you, just in case you decided to show up at my door. I don't know how to sugar coat this, so I'll write it plainly. I was raped when I was 14 by my paternal uncle, numerous times, and you were the result. I've never told anyone this. You are now the only one who knows. If I told you, you don't want to know the truth or that it would hurt you, would you have only desired to know it more? I hate to tell you this, and I hope it doesn't cast a shadow on your existence. I have no doubt you are loved and were meant to be here. I've often heard it said, that God doesn't make mistakes. I lied to my mom who was a single parent and an alcoholic about my pregnancy because I was afraid of what my uncle would do to me. I knew I couldn't keep you because I didn't want you exposed to this life, or the world I lived in. I can't say I've escaped my existence because I've become my mother, -only alcohol isn't my only addiction. One thing we have in common, if nothing else, is opening Pandora's box. It seems to be the theme of my life. I don't want it to be the theme of your life. So get rid of this letter and dispose of this truth, even from your mind. The only thing you need to know about your existence, or your parentage, is that you are the only worthy thing that has transpired in my life -to know you had all the love and opportunities I didn't, and that I wish I could give you under differing circumstances. I wish you all the success and happiness in this world that can be had, so never look back, only forward from this day forward.

Sincerely,

Beverly

I kept this letter with me throughout the years, as a reminder, that some truths no matter how much we long to know them, simply aren't revealed so easily for a reason. Even me, picking up this note I found by the old oak in the park, is synonymous with barking up the wrong tree, literally. Sometimes our curiosity gets the better of us. Sometimes, we should remain in the dark... I think Monte chose to be in the end, by losing this letter.