It took a while to find them. So much has happened since we wrote letters. I was 21, he was just turning 20. We had just rediscovered a friendship that quickly turned romantic. It was a Friday night and I had planned to stay in. That’s why I was home to answer the phone when you called. “Who, who is this?” Then it all came flashing back. Community college, baseball dorms, Dave Matthews Band. “Sally, I remember that night you walked in that party. I knew you were there for “Pele” but I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.” He was still in the Dimple of the Universe finishing his sophomore year. We had seen eachother several times over those few months in the spring and I really was happy to have “Kid” in my life. He, however, had plans to play ball for the summer in a wooden bat league in Iowa. I spent that summer being a nanny and trying to figure out how I could find time and money to fly out for a visit. With very limited internet, I did my best to keep up with his stats. Then there were the letters. Letters from Memphis to Murfreesboro. Letters where he always called me by my first and middle name. He signed them all beautifully-a signature he promised would be famous one day and with his current baseball number.
As I mentioned, I have found them, but I can’t read them. I can only stare at them…just thinking of how young and in love we were; it’s nearly unbearable.
He found me once more. I had been divorced for a few weeks and this little thing called Facebook was just getting popular. One night on my lap top I got a message from him. “Is this my Kid? MyKid!” Yes, it was. He noticed I was traveling-at the beach and asked how it was, who was there; “why isn’t your husband with you?” This is before people put all the details on social media and I hadn’t exactly shared the story since the baby was only 6 weeks old. I explained. He was sorry-as most people were. Now a new type of letter had started-texting.
He came back near the Dimple, soon after that. He had achieved his dream, coaching baseball at his high school outside of Memphis. He was here for a coaches conference so we were able to meet. I never saw him again. We both wanted something to work out but he had met someone near Memphis and neither of us thought those feelings would be so strong…but they were. We were right back in the dorm, with Dave Matthews Band writing those letters.
I have to remember I’m the one who pushed him away when I was 24. It was me, not him.
I don’t know if I can get into these letters just yet, but thinking about it today, I purchased a very large box of wine…maybe after that I can face what’s in those letters.
I was brave enough when he called me recently. I was selfless enough to tell him everything would be ok, give it time, you don’t want to be this guy.
I wonder if he kept my letters? I wonder if he’s brave enough to read them. I guess I’ll listen to Dave Matthew Band and read these.