Paper Hearts | ✓ | [ e d i t i n g ]

Chapter One - The first list

" True happiness comes from the joy of deeds well done, the zest of creating things new."

- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

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My family never receives mail. On Christmas, only two cards come in the post box: one from my grandparents (we love you sweeties! Wish your oldies luck on our trip to Australia!), and one that was written out to our neighbors but got put into our mailbox because the postman couldn't distinguish the 100 from the 101 on the side of the mailboxes. That being said, I was severely surprised when I pulled a white envelope out of mailbox 101. My initial thought was, our mail man messed up again. When I looked at the mailing address, I read:

101 Hallaway Drive. New Brooks. Rhode Island.

There they were, written in the most beautiful cursive. Each letter had it's own specific loop, twisting and turning like an elaborate letter rollercoaster. And the ink was glossy, glinting in the sunlight. It was nice, the feeling of holding a letter actually adressed to my house in my hands.

There was no return adress.

I practically ran inside, practically broke the door off the hinges when I pushed it open, " Mom!"

It was then I realized the absence of the car in the driveway and saw that no keys were on the hook. With a defeated sigh, I reasoned myself into opening it myself. Inside was a letter and a list. They went like this:

Dear You,

I'd like to start by saying you shouldn't feel very special. I picked a random adress out of the phone book. It happned to be you. You should through through a party, yeah? Anyways, I wrote this list in hopes that it might make your life better than mine turned out to be. This list is pliable to any age group, but if I'm being completly honest is more for people ages 15-25. Never the less, here it is.

1. Write a letter telling someone how wonderful they are. Keep in mind it must be a stranger. Try the phone book.

2. Go apple picking. You'd be surprised how relaxing this is.

3. Hug someone sad. Another one where you associate with strangers. You'll find that friends come in handy and it only takes a little courage to make them.

4. Make smoothies and sell them like lemonade. (Lemonade is overrated anyway)

5. Bake cookies with elderly people. Can I tell you how smart our eldest generations are? They know exactly what to say, always.

6. Help someone homeless - I personally am not found of them (reasons many) but sometimes you meet good people with good stories.

7. Run into someone walking their dog. Don't judge this list. Pain comes before relief, which in this case is friendship. You might as well go all out.

8. Say something you've never said before. ( like hello in Latin. I've said it before but that doesn't mean you have.)

I didn't know what to do with myself. Here it was, a note saying that I shouldn't feel special and containing a list of things I could do to try and fill some of the space my summer contained. 

If I were being honest, I did feel special. What were the odds. I lived in a small house, in a small town, on a little state. Everything about my existence was little and yet somehow the voice behind the letter's finger had landed on my adress. I felt very special.

Before I could stop myself, I bolted up the stairs and burst through my door, shoving the note under my feather pillow. It was selfish of me; it plainly stated that it was for fifteen to twenty-five year olds, and I was almost one hundred percent sure that wasn't my parents.

Once again, what were the odds.

I heard my mother's old Ford pickup rumble into the driveway, heard her slam her door and especially heard her when she called, " Toodles, you alive in here?"

" Mostly!" I called back, turning to trot back down the stairs I had so quickly ascended not minutes before.

" Good." She said, setting a handful of groceries on the table, " So, how was your day?"

Basic small talk. I knew where she was getting at. A sly smile touched my lips, and I waved her off, " Save it. What do you want for dinner?"

" Now come on I can make dinner." She said, defensively.

I scoffed, " please. and I'm sure Uncle Ernie can walk a tightrope" -uncle Ernie being a large man-," But that doesn't mean it needs to happen."

She rolled her eyes but didn't protest, " Mac and cheese, hotdogs. sound good?"

" Sounds wonderful. I'll get on it." And that's what I did. 

I filled a pan with hot water and let it boil, two pans actually. I put the pasta in one and the hotdogs in the other. I stirred the cheese and pasta and put the hotdogs in buns. I was especially delicate with the amount of ketchup and mustard I put on my mother's hotdog; the two had to be equally distributed. And finally, I served it up.

My mother wasn't a bad woman, she just held a more manly roll in the house. Everything about her seemed more... buff. She ate fast, sometimes got in on her chin. Her hair was normally cut short and she wore baggy clothing, nothing was to cling to her frame. She was beautiful though, that was a given.

I thought about the letter. The more I thought about it, the more excited I got. At one point, I started shaking with the anticipation of completing the list. I don't know what it was about it. Maybe I had never had a successful summer before; maybe I was excited to do things other than cook for my mother and watch netflix. 

Maybe I just felt special.