Letters In the Moonlight of Taj Mahal

Letters

"Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love." – Albert Einstein

Three

Pulling into the driveway, I stop and grab the mail. I had spent the day shopping for groceries and a few outfits for the coming fall season. Now I'm looking forward to getting everything put away quickly so I can relax on the deck with a glass of lemonade and eat the Indian takeout I'd grabbed on the way home.

Leaning back on the chaise, I sift through the small stack of letters, surprised to find one with a New Zealand return address. Megan's address to be exact. But the handwriting clearly isn't hers. I quickly open it and unfold the blue stationary.

Dear Lyla,

How are you? I know receiving a letter from me is likely a surprise. Actually, I'm surprised, myself. I have no reason to write to you other than I just felt prompted, so I choose not to question it, but to just simply do it. So, back to my question. How are you? And don't say fine, because Mum's tone suggests otherwise. And no, I have not been eavesdropping on my parent's conversations, Mum is just concerned about you and she needed someone to talk to. So here I am. I don't expect you to bare your soul to me, I am simply a listening ear–or rather, an eager pair of eyes. Wait, I don't mean that the way it sounds. I merely want to be a friend when you need one. I hope that is all right.

You and Mum have been friends for so long, I can't believe we haven't met. The two times you were here, I was in India visiting family. I am sure that was my loss. However, since I missed the opportunity to get to know you in person, I would consider it an honor if you would allow me that privilege across the distance through letters.

I am sure my mother has given you the sordid details of my bachelorhood, as well as my ripening into old age at thirty-five. She has, huh? I thought so. Well, just so you know, I am still fit and agile, my mind is still sharp, and I have not sworn off women. I have just never found the right one. So, could you please tell Mum that? It may sound better coming from you since she respects your opinion.

Mum told me a little about your identical twin sons. I'm sure you have some interesting experiences to tell. I hope you don't mind that she shared a little about your deceased husband–or her not-too-kind feelings about him, anyway. I am sorry if you feel it is none of my business. Just say the word and I will never broach the subject again, all right?

Lyla, more than anything I just want to let you know you have another friend in Christchurch. I hope my offer is welcome. Looking forward to hearing from you. Take care of yourself.

Sincerely,

Marc

I place the letter on my lap, completely stunned and speechless–not that there is anyone here to talk to even if my mouth could form words, anyway. Megan's son wrote to me! I am flattered and grateful he cared enough to write. It's one of the most considerate things anyone has ever done.

Rushing into the house, I take some stationary from my desk in the den and return to my spot on the

deck, and write a response.

Dear Marc,

This is definitely a surprise, but one I will never complain about. I can use as many friends as I can get. Thank you for your thoughtfulness. It means a great deal. And who knows? Maybe one day after I have gotten to know you more, I will indeed bare my soul. Maybe.

I, too, am sorry we never got the chance to meet while I was there. And yes, Megan has vented to me on occasion about your supposed aversion to marriage. But don't worry. I figured there was more to it. I really can't see any man your age being anti-marriage unless he has been burned badly by an ex-wife or girlfriend, or some other reason that would make the blessed union less than appealing. You were raised too traditionally for that. However, it is good to know you are still fit. (smile)

As for how I am, well, it changes from day to day. Today is a good one because I have just read a letter from a new friend, so I am sure the rest of my evening will be great. Thank you for that. It means a lot to know you are there, and that you care.

Getting to know you through letters will be interesting indeed. It will be different, that's for sure. Thanks for today, for your words, and for giving me a reason to smile. I look forward to your next letter. Until then, take care.

Lyla

I read over the letter once more before folding it and slipping it into an envelope. I address it, adding a return label.

* * *

I spend the rest of the evening contemplating Marc's letter, wondering what prompted him to write, yet grateful he did. I can't help wondering if Megan knows, and if she does, what she thinks about it. I shake my head.

Why am I thinking about it so deeply anyway? It was just a friendly letter, just kind words written from one soul to another. Both lonely souls. Sighing, I run a hand through my hair before braiding it. Good grief, stop this! Quit over-analyzing, it's just a letter.

When I finally get into bed, before turning out the light, I mentally repeat that admonishment. But as I close my eyes, my heart flutters as I think about–and look forward to–receiving Marc's next letter.