The Letters

“Papa, did you ever go into the attic to retrieve the decorations like I asked?” Linda’s voice cut through the hallway again, sharp enough to poke a hole through my last bit of peace. I rolled my eyes. How many times was she going to nag me about those damn decorations? 

“If you need it so bad, why don't you take your holly jolly self up there and get it on your own” I shouted back. “ Is like yal; tryna kill me too, I see why Londa died, yall kill one source with yall nagging and moving right along on to yall next victim. 

Linda stepped into the living room, dragging a trail of dust behind her, sand particles stuck all in the patterns on her flip flops. 

“Wh–” 

“ No,” I snapped before she could finish. “ Why are you trailing dirt all up in my house like you clean in here? I said I'll get dem dusty decorations when I get them. Now get the broom and come sweep my flippin floors”. 

She let out a large huff of air and spun around on her, irritation plastered all over her face, but I couldn’t care less. She could stomp and raise the dead for all I care, i just want my floors swept. It was only the tenth of December, so I couldn’t exactly register the reason for all this commotion with this Christmas nonsense. Tsss. 

How do you want Christmas so bad but acting like the flipping Grinch? I muttered under my breath. “Just backwards man”. However, through all that rowing, I knew the same thing would happen anyways. Nag, complain, and repeat, the three things women truly excel at. So I took the opportunity to head up the attic. Might as well lock myself in there too; seems like in there or death is the only place I don't have to hear that annoying child's mouth. 

I pulled down the fold out stairs, and as soon as it opened, a wave of dust slapped me right in my throat. It felt like the whole attic reached down and tried to choke me. 

“ God dang it” I coughed. This is exactly why I didn't wanna come up here in the irst place. I climbed the stairs slowly, not because of my weight but due to the creaking noise that haunts me with each step. I refuse to be the reason this house starts to tumble to shreds, especially after all these years. Couldn’t even turn around anymore, it was either go up those stairs or hear Linda’s voice again. By the time my head came in contact with the attic level, the coldness hit me.

The flashlight from my phone barely sliced through the darkness . Figures, and decorations always hide at the back of the attic, it's like they know I don't want to deal with them. 

“ Where yall at… “ I mumbled, squinting like the boxes could answer and pointing me to the back where the decorations may be. 

I showed everything aside, Londa’s old clothes, stacks of newspapers that were meant to be thrown out months ago. Everything up here seemed louder than usual. The broken floorboards, the breeze hitting against the roof, and the silence truly deafening . 

I bent down, finally spotting the box of red and gold Christmas junk Linda kept harassing me for. I grabbed it, brushing off another and here goes another cloud of dust determined to end my life earlier than anticipated. 

But before I could turn back around towards the stairs, I heard something A whisper-soft. 

“Jacky… Ja..” 

My spine locked up, the cold creeping deeper. See why I said I didnt wanna do this crap in the first place, 

I spun around quickly, heart hammering, but all I found was the old broken personalized talking teddy bears. Londa and I used to exchange gifts like these to always remember one another when we got lonely. While walking towards it to get a closer inspection on the toy from my past, my food kicked something light, wooden, and small. I slightly slid across the attic floor with a small scrape. 

“ Now what dis’ is?” I grumbled, setting the decorations down. It was a little old box, real old. The wood was faded, corners beat up dead Bad,and my name was carved crookedly on the top like someone carved it with a butter knife. 

Jackson-2004 

“ Boy das a long time aye… “ I muttered. Curiosity tugged at me harder than I wanted to admit. I lifted the lid, expecting maybe toys, or nothing at all. But inside were folded pieces of paper stacked neatly like the younger me took this real seriously 

I opened the first one .

The handwriting, Lord, it was rough, It was truly something. The letters were leaning like they were drunk, lines twisted like this twister, But I recognized it. 

“ I want to be kind to people so they won't feel bad” 

 I snorted. “ Help people? Me? The attic echoed my laugh back at me. “ Oh lord. How naive was I back then? 

I opened another 

“I want to try to change my nonchalant ways” 

I felt something pinch in my chest, not sharp, but deep. Almost like a reminder… , a reminder I didn't ask for . 

Third one: 

“I want to set an example for my children and grandchildren, creating a place of warmth and love”. 

I stopped breathing for a second. I sat back on an old crate, the letters spread all over my knees. The cold didn't feel so cold anymore. All of a sudden, the attic didn't feel haunted, it felt like it was waiting for me to remember something I long forgot. 

I gathered the letters and made my way back downstairs with the decorations under one arm. I could still hear Linda fussing around the living room when I fully came down, with some off-tune Christmas music playing in the background by the Christmas tree. 

“Lin Lin”. I called 

She turned quickly, ready to bark again, but froze when she saw my face. 

“What happened to you? She asked , with her brows pulled together . “You look … different. 

“You took so long, I thought you got married up there”. She said lightheartedly, joking. See right when I want to change, she pulls me off track, she's a true spawn of the devil. But seeing that smile, that jovial smile from the way we ‘ get off on each other’ was the way we always bonded. Some may call it disrespect but it never even came close to that line, it was just our father daughter bond.

I lightly chuckled, setting the decorations down and handing her the letters. She quickly grabbed in, hugging it towards her chest with a playful grin on her face, not even bothering to look or read anything on the letter. 

“Is this your final will? You know based on how long you were in there, I am not surprised that you occupied yourself by writing your will. My name better be in this too, or else, first thing in the morning, straight to Demetrius Centre”. She ranted out. She always was a chatter box, she got that from her mammy, just like to run on and on and on. 

She finally looks at the letters after seeing I wasn’t responding to her stale jokes. She read it, lips parting slow. “You write this?” 

“Yeah”, I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “Years ago. I found it in the attic. That's why I took so long.” 

Her expression softened, really softened. Not the fake soft she pulled when she wanted something.She always been a sensitive thug. 

“So what does that mean?” she asked quietly. 

I swallowed. The attic dust must’ve followed me down because my throat felt tight 

“Means i gon try,” I said finally. “Try lil more, y’know? Lil more patience, Lil more help, Lil less rowing and noise”. 

She smiled, because she knows once I'm committed to something it's hard to get me to change my mind or detour me from promises, especially when made to myself. Oddly, her smile this time didn’t annoy or piss me off. 

As the days passed, I kept reading letters each morning, almost like a guide written by a boy who somehow knew who I was, and how I was going to turn out.. Weirdly, little by little, my tone shifted without me trying. 

Instead of barking at Lin Lin, I catch myself saying “ Eh, bring dat her for me chile”, or “ Gyal, ya making more noise den sense, but come lemme help ya”. 

And she'll have that hearty laugh because she said I sound like my daddy used to when he was in a good mood. By the third day, I honestly realized something strange, something settling in my chest.

The letters weren't strange or infused with magic 

The attic wasn't haunted 

It was just me, finally remembering the person I once wanted to be .And somehow, that lil boy I used to be was teaching me all over again. 

My wife had this saying” Im glad, just in time for Christmas”. That's exactly what it was; a jolly miracle, just in time for Christmas.