Dear Harold,
I am leaving you.
It is finally time for me to move
on.
Susan is going to help me find an
apartment. Maybe near the ocean. I always wanted to live by the
ocean.
Love, Carol
Carol wrote the words with the only pen
left in the junk drawer. Red ink on plain white copy paper. She
looked at the words and crumpled the paper. The words felt too harsh
to end an almost fifty-year marriage.
“What words should I use?”
She asked the almost-empty room. The
entire house was empty for the first time since he carried her over
the threshold. Only a few wire hangers remained in the hall closet.
She looked down at her black dress and wished she had left an iron at
the house. The linen skirt was already wrinkling.
She began again in cursive red.
Dear Harold,
I am leaving you. You really
shouldn’t be surprised. It’s been a long time coming.
She giggled a minute before continuing.
I bought a new black dress and am
wearing my hair down like you like. I feel pretty. For the first time
in a long time.
I hope you will miss me.
She hesitated before closing out the
letter. They had never really exchanged sentimental letters even when
he was away at war. She already missed him.
Love,
Carol
Somehow, the second attempt seemed less
harsh. More worthy of fifty years.
Susan honked her horn out in front of
the split-level ranch. Carol folded the letter and put in on the
mantel. She turned in her new black sensible heels and walked out the
front door for the last time.
She knew it was time to go. Harold’s
funeral started at 2:00.
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