Waiting for a letter

I’ve been waiting for a letter, not one in specific just any letter.

I can’t remember when was the last time I got a letter, not a bill or an advert, but an actual letter. Something that someone wrote for me on paper and ink, because they missed me, loved me or wanted to tell me how their summer went.

To tell you the truth I don’t think I’ve ever actually gotten a letter. Yes, I’ve had letters given to me, by friends or family.

Remember those little notes your friends wrote for you in first grade with the help of the teacher on valentine’s day, everyone had their own special mailbox in the classroom, and by the time valentine’s day comes we were all excited running around telling everyone “I got 20 letters!” and “You are my best friend!”, those were great!!

Why don’t we do that anymore?

 I’ve been waiting for a letter, not one in specific just any letter.

Today I was walking my dog Bob, I saw the mail man doing his rounds, and I wondered if I got a letter.

I love Bob, he does not send me letters, but I know if he could he would.

He expresses his love and affection in other ways, for example, he caught a bluejay for me the other day at the park, sometimes I think he believes he is a cat, I felt sorry for the bird, but I know Bob meant well.

I’ve been waiting for a letter, not one in specific just any letter.

Is too early in the morning for extra syrup, but pancakes are breakfast food after all, so extra syrup it is today. My dog Bob keeps begging to eat off my plate, I love Bob, but I don’t think dogs can have pancakes; it might not be healthy for him, sorry Bob not today.

As I look at Bob, I think of the bluejay and I wonder if I’ll get a letter today.

I’ve been waiting for a letter, not one in specific just any letter.

All this time I’ve been waiting for someone, anyone to send me a letter, and then I realized I haven’t sent anyone a letter myself.

Maybe if I send a letter, someone will send me a letter in return.

So I looked at Bob and said “Bob today we send letters to our friends!” I’m sure he had no idea of what I was saying but he sure did help!

So I wrote, he printed his paws and letters we sent!

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Dog Named Bob.”

Running Away

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “An Extreme Tale.”

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” — Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

A year ago around this time I found myself at the lowest I had ever been, trying to force a relationship with someone I knew was never going to work,  keeping myself away from my friends and family, depressed to the point of thinking that if I was dead it wouldn’t make a difference.

I remember staying home on Christmas day watching movies, drinking cheap wine and ignoring everyone’s phone calls and texts. I did the same for New Years, actually I was in bed by 9 pm New Years eve. I wouldn’t leave my bed unless it was to go to work and some days not even for that.

And then one I decided I was moving to a different city, a different state actually. So I called my mother and told her I was moving with to New Orleans with her. I though that putting some distance between me and my problems would be the best way to work things out. Here I was in a new city, with no friends, no job, no school, unknown streets and a totally different culture to get use to, starting from zero.

A few months after moving I became frustrate by the fact that getting a job had been harder than what I had expected and that although I love my mother and my little sister I needed other forms of human interaction. Instead  of feeling happy and free of all the things I had run away from I became even more depressed.

I was not solving nor facing my problems when I decide to move, I was in fact avoiding them and running away to the safety that is my mother, just like a toddler runs to their mom when they feel uncomfortable around strange environment.

It was not until I realized that trying to keep my problems behind without facing them wouldn’t help me get out of the big whole I was getting myself into, I was digging this hole and only I could stop it from getting bigger.

So I accepted my mistakes, with moving being the first and biggest one. I put real effort into looking and eventually getting a job. I went out to and tried to learn my way around the city,got lost hundreds of times, oh the amount of times I went the wrong way on a one-way street. I found something that made my happy, photography would be that something, to help me adapt to my new life.

It was not as easy as it sounds and it is a still an ongoing progress, but that is why my life as it is now is the best and the worst of times for me. Because when being at my worst I found the light within myself that is guiding me to my best, and I know that once I get to the end of the road, when ever that might be, I will be ok.