"For the Future"

“Here, this is for you.” The man I knew only as ‘Mr.’ slid a small package across the table. I sat still in my seat and stared at the brown paper. “Ya know, your parents never really had much but they still always imagined themselves leaving you something when they passed.” Mr. spoke softly, watching me, his thick accent sounding just like my father’s.

He paused as if waiting for me to greedily rip open the package. Instead I stared solemnly at it, reminded of my mother’s hands. I could almost see her now, carefully tying the twine.

“Right, well then…” Mr. clapped his hands together and awkwardly tried to carry on conversation.

“Thank you.” I managed to say. It was the first I’d spoke since Mr. stopped by to read me my parent’s will. “I’d like some time, please.” I added quietly, turning my head to the kitchen window. Through the heavy rain outside I could see the bright colors of mother’s garden.

“Of course. I should be heading out now anyways. You know how the weather always makes for bad traffic.” He smiled halfheartedly and patted the table before turning to the door. I stood up and followed after him, watching silently as he put on his coat and grabbed his hat.

“I appreciate you… stopping by.” I forced myself to say something. I could hear my father chastising me for my lack of hospitality. Mr. smiled softly and rested his hat against his chest, covering his heart.

“Ya know, Miss Cooper, I was friends with your father back when we were younger. He always said you were his pride and joy. He dreamed of raising you, and being the kind of father he never had.” Mr. paused and pressed his lips into a line, as if to prevent them from wavering while he spoke. His eyes watered as he gathered his thoughts. “I, uh, I know that ya don’t know me well but… if ya ever need something I promise to do what I can for ya. Your old man was like my brother and family watches out for each other so…” His voice trailed off and he cleared his throat. I felt my eyes watering so I nodded, afraid that my voice would break if I tried to speak. Mr. seemed to understand because he offered me a solemn look before opening the front door.

Heavy rain pounded against the ground outside. I stepped forward, holding the door as he put on his hat and headed down the porch steps. He hastily made his way to his car and waved one last time before driving away. I shut the door and leaned my forehead against it, no longer able to hold back the tears in my eyes or the sobs in my chest. I should have left it open, the rain was much more comforting than the silence of my empty home.

“Sarah, are you ever gonna open this up?” Maisie, my childhood best friend, called from the living room. I glanced up from my seat at the dining table to see what she was talking about. In her hands was the small package my parents left me.

“I don’t know if I want to.” I spoke quietly, looking away from Maisie and back at the bills in my hands.

“Why not? It’s the last gift from your parents right? Don’t you want to know what’s inside?” Maisie asked, carrying it into the dining room. She pulled the chair out beside me and sat down, resting the package on the table. I glanced at it, before forcing myself to look away. “Sarah… it’s been almost a year.” Maisie rested her hand on my wrist and watched me sadly. I wiped my eyes before taking a deep breath.

“I know. You’re right. It’s just…” I inhaled sharply and looked down at the package. I picked it up, holding it carefully as if pressure would break it. “This is how my mom always wrapped my gifts.” My voice cracked and tears fell down my cheeks. I sniffled and took another deep breath. “It seems silly but when I look at it, I just see her and…” I sobbed, trying desperately to keep myself together. “It’s the last gift she ever gave me so I feel like if I open it…” I paused again, now crying uncontrollably. Maisie rubbed my back. “I don’t want to ruin the only thing I have left of them.” I finally managed to finish my thought. Maisie nodded.

“I understand Sarah.” She said softly. “But they wanted you to have this. Like you said, it’s the last gift your mom ever gave you. Don’t you want to know what’s inside?” She pressed further. I managed to stop myself from crying and I nodded. “You don’t have to open it now but promise me that you will?” She held out her pinky. I smiled and sniffled again.

“I promise.” I wrapped my pinky around hers and she grinned.

“Let me know what it is.” She said as she hugged me tightly. She stood up and stepped towards the entryway. “I have to go now, but I’ll talk to you later okay?” She watched me. I nodded. “See ya, Sarah.” She waved before heading out.

Now alone I turned back to the wrapped package. It had haunted me for months now. I was so fearful that opening it would mean letting go of my parents so I left it alone. Maisie was right though. It had been almost a year since my parents passed in a car accident. Whatever this final gift was, it was in their will that I have it, and I had yet to open it.

I took a slow, deep breath before undoing the twine knot. I swallowed the lump in my throat and unfolded the brown paper, revealing a black journal inside. The leather was worn and faded, the papers slightly browned from oils and dirt. I started to undo the fastener keeping the leather journal shut and slowly, I opened it to the first page. “Property of the Cooper Family” was written in my mother’s cursive. Underneath it was a date and time. August seventeenth, in the year 1998, 10:22 pm. The day I was born.

I quickly shut the journal and rested my head in my hands, crying once again. Memories came flooding back inside my head. This faded black leather journal. My father carried it everywhere with him. At home, he was always scribbling in it. I remember asking him several times what it was and why it was so important. His response was always the same.

“I’ll show you one of these days, Pumpkin.” He’d smile and ruffle my hair. I’d always giggle and tell him to stop but I was glad he never did.

“Mommy why does Daddy always write in that journal?” I asked my mom one day instead of my dad.

“Neither your father or I really had any good family traditions so we decided we’d start one with you. He writes so he can remember all the good times and one day, when you’re old enough, it’ll belong to you, and it’ll be your turn to write in it.” She smiled and kissed my forehead, holding me close.

I didn’t know it back then but my mother and father both came from what you’d consider “broken homes”. My mom grew up in foster care, never really having a family, and my dad fought with his parents all the time. When they met and fell in love, they ran away together and bought this small house with all the money they had. Then they decided to start a family from scratch, and had me.

My crying subsided and I took several deep breaths to calm myself before wiping away my tears and opening the journal again. I flipped past the first page and glued to the left hand side was a picture of me as a baby. The first entry on the right was titled “Sarah Elizabeth Cooper”.

“Today was the happiest day of our lives. My wife and I welcomed our first child- a healthy, beautiful, baby girl- into this world. We’ve named her Sarah Elizabeth Cooper. I can tell already that she’s going to be incredible. I never knew my heart could carry this much love.” I tried to keep reading my father’s rough handwriting but every word became more and more difficult as tears welled up in my eyes.

I flipped to the next entry and there again on the left hand side, was a picture of me. The second entry was titled “Baby’s First Steps”. I continued flipping through the book, finding more and more photos I had never seen before, and reading about moments of my life I couldn’t even remember. Every huge milestone I ever went through was detailed in this journal. In between the big chapters of my life, there were candid photos, some of me eating and others of me sleeping, alongside shorter entries about my father’s anxiety as a parent, or his boundless love for his family. Every now and then there were photos of my mother, and instead of writing about me, my father talked about how lucky he was to know her, how beautiful and smart she was, and how much he loved her.

Eventually I reached the later years of my life and the journal entries changed. Now, in place of my father’s adoring comments was life advice and reminders. Don’t ignore service lights in your car. Get your oil changed every few thousand miles. Budget your money wisely and save most of it. Be wary of scammers. Reach out to your friends. Enjoy the little things. Take care of yourself. Be wise about who you date…

I spent hours looking over every single word, taking in the photos of my family and listening to my father. As I reached the back of the journal, I hesitated. I could tell this was the end. All of the pages afterwards were clean and pressed, as if they hadn’t been touched. I held on to the corner of the page, afraid to flip it over. After a few moments of gathering myself together I quickly turned it. In place of a picture was an envelope and the entry was titled “For the Future”.

“My Dear Sarah,” I could hear the words in my father’s voice. “You recently graduated college and moved out but your mother and I know you will come home to us again. We have been so blessed to be your parents, and watch you become the most amazing human being. Your compassion is continually astounding and your genius knows no bounds. We know that no matter what you choose to do in life, it will have meaning and the world will be all the better for it. You are my star child, my pumpkin, and even though one day I may not be there to say it in person, my words will be eternally recorded in this journal for you. This envelope was kept safe all these years, so that when you started a family of your own, you’d have a head start on life that neither your mother nor I got. We wanted to give you every chance we missed. So, from the bottom of our hearts, we love you, and we offer you this.”

I opened the envelope and my heart skipped a beat as I saw what was inside. A check for $20,000. It was my parents’ savings, money they kept hidden away for emergencies. And now it was mine. This time the cries were unstoppable. My whole body shook as I sobbed. I could still feel their love after all this time. I’d missed them so much and felt so alone but they had been right here the whole time, in-between the bindings of this little black journal made just for me.