The
debt is paid, the verdict said, the Furies laid, the plague is stayed, all
fortunes made. Turn the key and bolt the door; all is now secure and fast; not
the gods can shake the Past.
–Ralph
Waldo Emerson: The Past
After
I opened the mailbox, and picked up the bundle inside, my heart leaped. Among
the utility bills, and commercial flyers, there was a letter whose sender’s
name and address were familiar to me: Hildegard Austerlitz, Dusseldorf ,
Germany
I
hurried upstairs, rather impatient, anticipating the letter’s content. After I
read it, I was satisfied and somewhat disappointed, at the same time.
Dear William, it was a great surprise
to get a letter from you after such a long time. Many thanks! I’m sorry that I
cannot start a new correspondence. I’m 86 years old and have finished my
writing. But I wanted you to know that I got your letter, and I live still in
the same flat in Dusseldorf
Three months before, I had sent eighty
seven letters. One by one, they all came
back to me, with various stamped messages: Wrong address, Wrong postal code,
Addressee no longer lives at this address, Return to sender.
Ever since I was a little boy I have wanted
to travel the world, and meet people from every corner of the earth. When I was
a school boy, I would stare at the pictures on my Geography book in a trance,
dreaming of one day visiting those far away places.
But, before the Internet and electronic
mail, my only real window to the world was short-wave radio, and snail mail.
Bouncing magically between Earth and the Ionosphere, short waves could travel
around the globe. Every night I would spend a couple of hours sitting by the
old Philips radio. I remember the excitement when I was able to get the signal
of radio stations in remote countries like Israel South Africa Netherlands
In 1988 I sent them a letter telling them
that I was going to move to another country; that I knew the beginning would be
difficult, but that I would resume correspondence when I got settled. The fact
is, the beginning was a lot harder than I thought. Moving to a land where I had
no relatives, no friends, not even acquaintances, with a wife, a three year old
son, and a nine months old baby, was very difficult. Homesickness, loneliness, Winter,
financial difficulties, they all weighed down on me. I got sidetracked by the
vicissitudes of life, and I never wrote again.
Twenty four years later, digging in a trunk
where I keep stuff from the time when my sons were little children, I came
across an old list of names and addresses. My surprise was big when I
recognized it as the list of my pen pals. A violent wave of nostalgia swept me
away, and I decided to write again. I knew it was a long shot, like putting a
message in a bottle, hoping it would reach the other side of the ocean. I
thought that, most probably, everybody had moved to another address, and
therefore, nobody would answer. But, I did it anyway.
Three months later, when I had put the
whole project aside, with some bitterness, I received Hildegard’s letter. I had
returned to her a little bit too late.
Her life has certainly changed; mine too. Now I am trying to find
purpose, sense, and enjoyment in other aspects of it: reading, writing,
traveling, music, spreading good will among my fellow human beings.
Lately, I have been trying reconnect with
old friends, classmates, even teachers. Perhaps that’s an attempt to minimize
the existential loneliness, and give more meaning to my life through love and
interpersonal relationships, which is the only way I know to achieve salvation.
I visited my old school, and got some news
about my beloved second grade teacher. I had been searching for her for many
years, and I finally found her. She lives in New
York City New
York New
York New York
In a general sense, the effort has been
unsuccessful. Most of the letters I sent to my pen pals have been returned.
Obviously they have moved. Or, there is always the possibility that they don’t
care to reply. Maybe they don’t want to reconnect; and maybe they are right;
maybe it’s not a good idea to try to go back in time. The past is the past, and
must be left behind, and we should move forward, and only forward.
©
William Almonte Jiménez, 2014
