Dear Patterson’s,
Forgive me for this letter, for I’m not good at grammar, or writing in general, but I felt compelled to write you when I came across something of yours that drug my heart straight through the earth and reminded me of home. You don’t know who I am, or you might, maybe you really do pay attention? I don’t know.
One day, six years ago, I came across a package that was torn slightly and it smelled of caramel and chocolate. I was hungry that day and decided to take a peak at what was inside and was delighted with what I saw. It was filled to the brim with homemade sweets ranging from caramel drizzled brownies to hard candies and skillet cookies that I could tell were made with love because of the delicate bows that decorated the packaging.
I only took one piece of caramel and taped your box back up before getting a coworker of mine to deliver it to you. No one else knew that I did that, just me, and soon, you and your family.
I vowed to never do it again, but a few months later, a similar disheveled box arrived and I recognized the name. I couldn’t help but feel like a child on Christmas morning when I smelled the sweets again and a letter addressed to your son I assume. I didn’t read it, but it seemed like it was for a birthday. I jotted it down just in case I saw the package again next year or so. And I did.
It always came three times a year, two birthdays and thanksgiving. It never failed to show up on time.
I’m terribly sorry that I did what I did. Smelling the homemade caramel and chocolate just reminded me of the times I would visit my granny up north. She would always slave over making her candies for days at a time before we showed up. I was only four when she forgot my name. A year later, she forgot my parents’ names. Then she forgot how to make her candies and I didn’t hear much from her after that.
I’m sure she has passed away now and I have accepted that. We lost all contact with her by the time I was 8. I cried for days about it; I still miss her to this day. but smelling your candies always reminded me of the times I spent with my granny and it never failed to move me. Every year when I saw that a package come from her, addressed to you, I would always take only one candy and seal the box back up.
After a month or so of not seeing that package of sweets at the regular date that I would normally get it, I instead, have to deliver funeral invitations that you sent out.
Even now, while writing this, I feel my heart pound and weep the exact same way when I heard the news that I won’t be visiting my granny any more. She was as sweet as the candies she made, and I’m sure this person you lost was just as sweet as my granny. No one spends the time to wrap their own bows and wrap their own candies and decorate it with frilly paper flowers and butterflies. The only people who do that are the people who truly love and care about you. Those kinds of people would move mountains for you.
I’m sorry to end it like this, I could go on forever about it, but I have to leave for my deliveries. I’ll be resigning soon, so you won’t have to worry about me looking into your packages any more. I’m so sorry for your loss.
Best regards,
Anonymous