Well, mom definitely stayed true to her word. She packed absolutely everything she thought I might need, including my life size poster of team Jacob! Really mom? I have to hand it to her though, I know she is just doing it because she loves me and wants me to be comfortable in the strange new place I am going, but I'm not so sure the people at the check in counter really liked it when I showed up with two bags over the weight-limit. I ended up having to pay for them. She promptly apologized for not having room for my bedding and pillows. I told her I thought I could manage to buy a new one down there. they must have a Costco or Target somewhere I'm sure.
"I don't know what I'm going to do up here without you all summer." she said as I stood in my terminal
"I'm sure you'll manage some how mom,'' I replied
I can see her about to start pouring tears just as I hear the attendant announce my flight is boarding. I really wish she wouldn't go all weepy mom on me in the middle of the airport. It's so embarrassing. "You know mom I could just turn around with you and go right back home and forget about this whole thing," I say sarcastically. Like that will ever happen.
"No, honey you have to go. This may be the last chance you have to find out who your father really was," she says instantly sobering up from her cry-fest, "You may regret this later on, even if you hate him now things might change in the future and you'll wish you had gone."
"I doubt that will happen, but okay only because you want me to." I remarked
I give her one last hug and turn to leave before I start crying myself. She stops me and hands me a small envelope. It has my name on it and it looks pretty old, I notice as I study it. I realize it's the letter he left me fourteen years ago when he left us. "I thought you didn't want me to read this. I thought you threw it away years ago when I found it in your drawer."
"No. I couldn't keep this from you. But do me a favor and don't open it until you are in the air okay?" she added
"Okay. Thank you mom, and I love you." I said as turn to hear the final announcement for first-class to finish boarding. That's my cue to hurry up. I have never ridden in a plane before, let alone first-class. I definitely didn't want to mess up my first time.
Sitting in my very own section, I guess because this state just isn't popular or something I don't know, I flip the envelope over and over in my hands examining it. It is still completely sealed except for the tiny corner I tried to rip open without my mom knowing when I was eleven. I can't seem to take my eyes off the elaborate handwriting on the front. It's so neat and precise. Did my dad really write like that? I've never seen a boy with even decent handwriting. Maybe he was gay? maybe that's what my mom meant when she said I learn who he really was. Then again, I think that's kind of stereo typing huh? Just because he could be gay doesn't automatically mean he has to have neat hand-writing. I mean gay people could have sloppy hand-writing. I don't know now I'm confusing myself on politically correct thoughts. Geez, what's happening to me? This letter has me so worked up I can't even seem to think right. I wish they would hurry up and finish boarding so we can get into the air.
Women and small children finish, and now they are calling the remaining passengers to board. I can't take it anymore I have to open it. I put my finger inside the tiny opening and right as I am about to rip the top open a tiny hand grabs my elbow from the isle.
"Whacha doin?" a small girl about 5 years old asks me. I stammer for words as she just continues to look up at me through a mane of beautiful golden locks that fall past her backside.
