Letters | Imagining inspiration from three prompts

My mother was writing a mid-winter greeting card.
She spoke to me as I peered over her shoulder.

“It’s for people I missed sending New Year’s cards to.”

“Can’t you just do that by email these days?”
“That wouldn’t really be appropriate, would it?”

In my mother’s hand was a fountain pen.
It had a black barrel with gold trim.
It was substantial and well-worn.

“That’s rare, a fountain pen.”
When I said that, my mother narrowed her eyes as she looked at the pen.

“This is a pen your father cherished. I make sure to use it for special occasions.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the pen that changed your father’s life and mine.”

A pen can change a life?

“You see, your father gave me a love letter written with this.”
My mother said, looking a little shy.

“Your father’s handwriting wasn’t that beautiful.
But he wrote his feelings down so very carefully.”
“I thought to myself then, ‘He’s a sincere person.’”
My mother looked off into the distance for a moment.

“That was the start of us dating.”

Pens and letters are just tools.
My father wrote the letter with all his might.
My mother was drawn to the words on the page.
That is all there is to the facts.

Yet, as a result, the two of them married, and here I am.
This fountain pen is, in a way, the witness to that.

“Does that letter still exist?”
My mother blushed at my playful question.
“It went off somewhere.”
Saying that, she returned to her mid-winter greeting.

I asked my mother as she finished writing the postcards and tidied up.
“Could you give me that fountain pen?”

My mother hesitated for a moment before handing it to me.
“Use it with care.”

The pen that rewrote my parents’ destiny.
It’s heavy.
But that weight feels comforting.

After hearing my mother’s story, I had made up my mind.
I had been hesitant, but,
with this fountain pen, I could write that letter.

He was the one who resigned a month ago, saying he would take over his family’s shop.
We had dated for a year, but our relationship never quite reached the level of lovers.

At the farewell party, I barely managed to say, “Take care.”
After that, all I received on my smartphone from him was a formulaic message.
“Thank you for everything. Please stop by if you are ever in the neighborhood.”

I wrote with my father’s fountain pen.
The ‘thank you’ I desperately wanted to convey.
The ‘I’m sorry’ I could never apologize for.
The feelings I couldn’t say until the very end.

I spent the whole night writing and sent the letter.

A week has passed since then.
A letter from him arrived in my mailbox.

I am participating in Mikan Katagiri's 'Imaginative inspiration for 3 themes'. From the three themes, I used 'The pen that rewrites destiny'.

#ImaginativeInspirationFor3Themes
#ThePenThatRewritesDestiny
#CoCreation #ShortShort
#MyWorkIntroduction #TryClickingLike
#AINovel #Letter

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