inkstains: contest 58, love or duty
Jul. 19th, 2012 05:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
1stmateJohnny-
I've labeled this envelope for you to open on your 16th birthday, so if you're not 16 yet, then put this letter right back in the envelope, young man!
But if you really are 16 - or older; I hate to think what that father of yours might do - then it's actually quite important that you read this. See, there are some things I didn't tell you before I left, though I doubt you would have remembered them had I told you. You were entirely too young. Although, now that I mention that, I suppose I owe you an explanation for leaving you with your father. It comes down, quite simply, to a choice between love and duty. Would you do what you love or what you've been told to do, what you'd like to do or what you feel obligated to do?
I chose what I'd like to do. I wish I could have brought you back here with me, but you wouldn't have been allowed until you started showing signs. Meanwhile, if I'd stayed with you, I would probably be deemed insane by now. I fell in love with your father while he lived on the farm, but the apartment he took for his new job was in the city. I ... well, I'm not a city person, and I'd wager you aren't, either. My family's genes are far too strong for that.
Unfortunately, I can't explain much of anything in a letter, so I'll just say this: when you find that city life isn't for you, when the lights and the bustle are too much, you get out of there and find a place where it's raining. You'll know, then, if you should come find me, and you'll be able to find me.
I look forward to meeting you.
Your mother,
Charlene Graves
I've labeled this envelope for you to open on your 16th birthday, so if you're not 16 yet, then put this letter right back in the envelope, young man!
But if you really are 16 - or older; I hate to think what that father of yours might do - then it's actually quite important that you read this. See, there are some things I didn't tell you before I left, though I doubt you would have remembered them had I told you. You were entirely too young. Although, now that I mention that, I suppose I owe you an explanation for leaving you with your father. It comes down, quite simply, to a choice between love and duty. Would you do what you love or what you've been told to do, what you'd like to do or what you feel obligated to do?
I chose what I'd like to do. I wish I could have brought you back here with me, but you wouldn't have been allowed until you started showing signs. Meanwhile, if I'd stayed with you, I would probably be deemed insane by now. I fell in love with your father while he lived on the farm, but the apartment he took for his new job was in the city. I ... well, I'm not a city person, and I'd wager you aren't, either. My family's genes are far too strong for that.
Unfortunately, I can't explain much of anything in a letter, so I'll just say this: when you find that city life isn't for you, when the lights and the bustle are too much, you get out of there and find a place where it's raining. You'll know, then, if you should come find me, and you'll be able to find me.
I look forward to meeting you.
Your mother,
Charlene Graves
