Paper Airplanes
Her thoughts were like paper
airplanes. They were literally airplanes.
She launched a hundred airplanes
outside her bedroom window upstairs. Each plane easily found its way home
somewhere. They all were dedicated to her late best friend, Ethan; they all got
lost somewhere in the small town.
Each clean sheet was surfaced
with ink that bled through. Nonetheless, she took time to fold and crease each
section of the paper to make it into a flying airplane. Each letter was filled
with the love she never got to express to him. But the hundredth letter,
launched in the windiest day known to the quiet town, traveled a far distance
until it reached a green tree on a stranger's porch and then fell to the green patches of grass on which he would walk by to get the early newspaper, where he
later found it. His wondering mind helped him unfold the neatly creased paper
airplane, where it soon revealed one of her paper thoughts…
Dear Ethan,
It's been a year since you passed away – at exactly five o'clock in the morning. I was there with you, telling you everything was going to be fine. Then I heard that heart retching sound of terror; the sound of the loud, clear, and deafening flat beep coming from the cardiac monitor.
I also forgot to mention, your mom was there too. She was asleep on the couch by the window overlooking the town. When she heard the sound, the fright on her face was beyond the one on mine.
We all miss you so much.
While you were asleep earlier in the day, I started rambling things about us, hoping you could hear me, so that the next morning I'd find out if you felt the same way.
But I never knew.
I never knew if you felt the same way I did. I never knew if you felt butterflies in your stomach the way I did when I'd hear you laugh.
And that's why I'm writing to you.
The last words you told me were, "I'm feeling tired." And now I can't help but think I'm feeling the same now that you're gone. Tired.
This is my hundredth letter to you and also my last.
All I wanted to say were the words I didn't get to say to you, and they're the most said words in the universe – I love you.
Your Best Friend, Lana
It's been a year since you passed away – at exactly five o'clock in the morning. I was there with you, telling you everything was going to be fine. Then I heard that heart retching sound of terror; the sound of the loud, clear, and deafening flat beep coming from the cardiac monitor.
I also forgot to mention, your mom was there too. She was asleep on the couch by the window overlooking the town. When she heard the sound, the fright on her face was beyond the one on mine.
We all miss you so much.
While you were asleep earlier in the day, I started rambling things about us, hoping you could hear me, so that the next morning I'd find out if you felt the same way.
But I never knew.
I never knew if you felt the same way I did. I never knew if you felt butterflies in your stomach the way I did when I'd hear you laugh.
And that's why I'm writing to you.
The last words you told me were, "I'm feeling tired." And now I can't help but think I'm feeling the same now that you're gone. Tired.
This is my hundredth letter to you and also my last.
All I wanted to say were the words I didn't get to say to you, and they're the most said words in the universe – I love you.
Your Best Friend, Lana
And soon enough the stranger who
found the letter will be doing the same as Lana did. He'll talk to his late
wife; this time sending her his paper thoughts.
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