the box

Howard walked up to the door and knocked. A moment later a wizened older woman swung open the door.

"Wadda ya want?" she croaked

"Uhh... Susan Mayward?"

"Nope."

Howard shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Isn't this Susan Mayward's house?"

"Yeah," said the woman who wasn't Susan Mayward.

"Is Susan home?"

"Nope."

Howard considered whether he ought to admit defeat or continue this painful discussion.

"Do you know where Susan Mayward is?"

"Yeah."

"So... where is she?"

"She's dead."

Howard blinked. This visit wasn't going anything like he had hoped that it would.

"You a friend or relative of hers?" demanded the woman.

"Uh, well I..."

"Great."

The woman diappeared from the doorway. A moment later she returned with a box.

"I was Susan's landlady. Her lawyer came by and took acre of most of her stuff but the rest of this useless crap nobody knows what to do with. So you can take it."

She shoved the box into Howard's arms and slammed shut the door. Howard looked down at the box in his arms and tried to make sense of what the woman had just said. Not knowing what else to do he walked back to his car and drove to work.

the mistake

Howard folded up the poem and the letter together. Why had this letter been sent to him? He was entierly confident that his name was not Susan. He picked up the cream-coloured envelople and examined it again. The recipient's addresss read as follows:

Susan Mayward
121 Overly Crescent
Toronto, Ont
M4B 2V4

It all became quite clear. The postman had made a mistake. Howard lived at 112 Overly Crescent. Must be a rooky postal worker. Howard would have to write an almost but not exactly unpolite letter chastizing the postal service for its mistake.

In the meantime, however, he should get this letter to its rightful recipient. Howard checked his watch. He still had enough time to drive over there before work. Hastily he grabbed his suit-jacket, briefcase, and the letter and rushed out to his car.

the poem

On the second sheet of paper was written a poem.

Each of us is born
With the seeds of dreams planted in our hearts
Receiving hope and love in childhood
Gives dreams a place to start

Adolescence is the place
Where dreams will come to wake
To other people they may seem trivial
But for us there’s much more at stake

Soon we become adults
And dreams can fade away
As quickly we forget
How to laugh and hope and play

Busyness in life
Can bring us to our knees
And carry off our dreams
Like dead leaves on a breeze

So don’t forget your passions
And don’t neglect your dreams
Or soon you will discover
Your life is tearing at the seams

Just like a caged up bird
Who’s been long deprived of sky
So too our dreams that aren’t set free
Are surely doomed to die

Howard felt something move deep inside him. What was this feeling?

the letter

The letter went as follows:

"Dear Susan,

How have you been my darling friend? It has been so long since I last saw you. Sometimes I wonder if I'll recognize you when I see you again.

Where to start? I have finished my classes and will be starting work as soon as I can. There are several options open to me, my favorite of which is in Egypt. I don't want to get my hopes up but my imagination just tends to run wild.

Oh, Susan, I miss having you here. Sometimes I really need to talk to you. The pen-pal thing is fine, but I wish we could talk face to face.

How are you? Are you still having your headaches? And what about that charming fellow that you told me about... did anything happen there?

Poop and pie! I just can't seem to concentrate on anything at the moment. Sorry, Susan, I promise to write you a better letter in a couple days.

Take care dear friend. You are in my thoughts.

Your friend, Marie

P.S. I attached a poem that I wrote the other day. You're always telling me I need to express myself... so reap what you have sown and read the stupid thing.

P.P.S. I also included four cornflakes because I know how much you love them. Hope they survived the trip!"

The second post script would have given some clarity to Howard except that he was now completely absorbed in unfolding and reading the second piece of paper that had been in the envelope.