I never intended to spy on her, but when I saw the little girl with pigtails slipping a letter into an abandoned mailbox, my curiosity got the better of me. What I discovered would force me to confront the ghosts of my past.
Two years ago, my mornings were filled with Sarah’s smile and the scent of coffee. Now, it’s just silence, broken by the hum of the fridge. Life had become a monotonous cycle of work, eat, sleep, repeat, especially after Sarah died. My freelance editing job allowed me to isolate myself, only speaking to strangers.
One evening, I found a small letter in my mailbox addressed to “Dad.” It was from a girl named Lily, writing to her late father. She missed him and shared how she’d earned an A on a science project they once worked on together. The letter hit me hard. Sarah and I had planned for a future that would never come.
The letter wasn’t meant for me, so I went to return it. The woman who answered the door explained that Lily’s father had passed away and that Lily still wrote to him. The letter had mistakenly ended up in my mailbox.
A few days later, I saw Lily again, this time at an old, abandoned mailbox. Curious, I later returned and found the mailbox empty. Someone had been taking the letters.
The next evening, I saw a man take one of Lily’s letters. He led me to an apartment, where I confronted him. He was Daniel, Lily’s uncle. He explained he’d been avoiding the family after a falling out with his brother, Lily’s father. He’d been collecting Lily’s letters, too guilty to respond.
I realized I was doing the same thing, avoiding people who cared about me since Sarah died. After meeting Daniel, I knew I needed to help him face his grief, just as I needed to face mine.
The next day, I convinced Daniel to visit Lily. He was terrified, but when he finally met her, he apologized. Lily forgave him instantly, and they began to reconnect. Daniel had kept every letter Lily sent, even writing her back but never sending them.
Afterward, I went to Sarah’s grave, something I hadn’t done in years. I apologized for not living fully without her, but I felt ready to try. That night, I received a call from Mike, an old friend from college. I hadn’t answered his calls since Sarah’s funeral, but now, I was ready to reconnect.
Through Lily and Daniel, I learned that healing doesn’t mean forgetting. It means facing the past and moving forward. And though I still don’t know how Lily’s letter ended up in my mailbox, I believe it wasn’t just chance.