@thejayde

A short story. The Letter There was an elderly woman who visited the post office every Friday. She'd mail a letter, always addressed to the same person, then leave without saying a word. One day, the postal clerk, curious after years of silence, asked, "Ma'am, you've been sending letters to the same address for as long as I've worked here. Does anyone ever write back?" The woman smiled gently. "No. My son passed away twenty years ago." The clerk's face softened. "I'm so sorry. But… why do you still write?" "Because," she said, "when he was alive, I was too busy to listen. I was always rushing—work, errands, life. He'd try to tell me about his day, his dreams, his fears. I'd say, 'Not now, sweetheart, maybe later.'" Her voice cracked. "Later never came." The clerk didn't know what to say. "So now," the woman continued, "I write him everything I should have said when he was here. I tell him I'm proud. I tell him I'm listening. I tell him I love him." She placed the envelope on the counter. "He may never read them, but I need to say them. It's my way of keeping the conversation alive." The clerk nodded, tears forming. "He hears you. I'm sure of it." The woman smiled. "I hope so." As she walked out, the clerk watched her disappear into the crowd, carrying her love in words that would never be read—but were always felt. The Lesson: Don't wait for "later" to tell someone they matter. Say it now. Love them now. Listen now. Because one day, all you'll have left are the words you wish you'd said. Tell someone you love them tonight. Don't let tomorrow steal today's moment. Goodnight. 💜

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