Advice and Words - Story-Ch. 1

Dear Readers: This is a fictional story. It is NOT TRUE, nor based upon any real incident!! Feel free to comment on it in the forum, but not too much criticism please, suggestions rather. :) Thanks My page-Contact me!
Letters in the Mail

I rushed to my window early one morning. The mail truck had just passed. Is it here? Did it arrive?, I thought.
I promptly dashed out the front door, still garbed in my pjs, and yanked open the mailbox. Leafing through the bills, and other boring enveloped papers, I was searching for something particualr, foreign to be exact. It's not here, I realized in dismay. I trudged back to the house.
"Did you get anything in the mail, darling?" my mother called from the kitchen.
"No," I sighed as I entered the room.
"Well I'm sure it'll arrive soon. Just be patient."
"I know, Mom."
Later that day, I probably would've had my face glued to the window to stare outside at the mailbox, hoping with all my might, that the mail person had forgotton to deliver my anticipated item. However, that was silly,and that obviously would not work. So instead, I sat on the couch most of the time with the T.V. on, getting up ever so often (frequently) to peak out the window at that mailbox. What a way to spend a day, huh?:D
You see, I'm an only child, and that can get kind of boring, especially since all the neighbors on my street are too old to have kids my age. Well, actually, my little sister is at camp, so I feel like an only child again. Hence the reason for my excitement when my mom mentioned that her penpal has a daughter my age. Yes, my mom does still keep in touch with her first and only penpal since her childhood. She has always been a snail mail enthusiast, and so have I. So when Mom found out that Tracy (her penpal) had a daughter my age, she immediately put in a word that I would like to get to know her. So I've been waiting for the first letter from Stacy (my new penpal) for a few weeks now. They live all the way in Asia! I thought that was really interesting!
Then I started to wonder, What if she doesn't really like to write letters, what if she doesn't like me, or if I don't grow fond of her... I started to worry, but then I pulled myself together. I will like her, and she'll like me. Besides, Mom said we had some essential things in common. It'll all work out.
The next day, I went through the same routine (raced to the window, dashed through the door, etc.). The only difference was that, as I was leafing through the boring enveloped papers, I discovered something that widened my eyes and brought a grin to my face! Is it? Could it be? It is! Woohoo! I ran back to the house waving the epistle everywhere, exclaiming, "It's here! It! Is! Here! It has arrived! Mother! Mother! Wooooo..."
I danced my jig all the way to the kitchen, where my mother stopped in mid-action and stared at me.
"Did your cell phone bill finally come, Sarah?" My mother teased solomnly.
"No!--well it did actually--But that is not the reason for my ecstacy. For my epistle has arrived, Mother." I returned the same solomnity.
"Oh! Your letter? Yay! It finally came! I'm happy for you! Read it out loud."
I brought the still enclosed letter up to my face, absorbing its appearance, before shredding the envelope to pieces viciously...ok well that didn't really happen. I studied the intricate patterns on the envelope. It had a distinguished red border enclosing the return label and all the stamps and the bar code. Also, there were designs and pictures on the envelope. They looked as if they were sketched by the practiced hand of an artist. There were words written on it in another language, unreadable to me. I carefully opened the envelope and removed the letter. It was written on parchment in beautiful handwriting. Interesting, I thought.
The letter read:
Dear Sarah,
My mom told me that you were interested in communicating via snail mail, like the penpals our moms are. I would love that! I really like snail mailing, but there's hardly anyone I know who likes it, too. It would also be fun to keep in touch with and get to know someone from another country! So, yes, I would be delighted to exchange letters with you, Sarah. Consider this one the first one. So the next one will be from you...
Hope to hear from you soon.

Your new penpal,

The way Stacy signed her name was beautiful, I thought. She has the most attractive penmanship I've ever seen. I couldn't wait to write my letter to her! I immediately sat down at my desk to compose an epistle to my new pen-pal.

The next day, I woke up to a bright, sunshiny day! It was wonderful! I finally had a penpal, and Mother had arranged for us to meet! Yes, our get together would be a week from now. Mom and her penpal would chat while their daughters hung out! I was sooo ectatic!! The only thing that dented my mood was the fact that my sister had returned from camp.
Anyway, that morning I had run downstairs.
"Mom! I am so so happy! Are you happy too?"
"Ugh, well yes, dear...but the house is a mess. I don't think we'll ever get it clean before they arrive...could you help me clean this up please," she motioned to the crums and trash decorating the living room area as a result of those snackage/telvision moments.
"Ok, Mom, I'll help you clean up, but what about little Talula?" I used the pet name to refer to my younger sister, Tilly.
"Well, I guess she'll have to stay with you and Stacy..."
"What!? NO! That can not happen, MOM! Stacy and I are supposed to spend time together to get to know each other. Stacy does not need to know about tattle-tale Tilly!!"
"Why not, Sis? I won't bover you." Tilly appeared from behind a wall, utilizing her cuteness to control me...again.
"Uh no. I don't need you to ruin everything as usual, kid. Just stay away from me, ok?"
"FINE!" She groaned loudly. "I'll just help Mom clean the house while you laze around and write your ridiculous letters!" Tilly pouted as she pretended to throw a tantrum to get her way...as always.
I rolled my eyes and walzed out of the room. You see, I really do adore my sister, it's just that sometimes she can get a little clingy and annoying as most 9-year-olds must be. Then, when that happens, she brings out the monster in me. I feel like I'm forced to screem at her. Sometimes I feel like I just want to hurt her, but I refrain because that's not acceptable. I won't allow myself to go that far because I will regret it the minute I commit something like that. Besides, she's my sister, and I love her...I really do...but don't tell her that.
Well, that day was a cleaning day, as was most of the following days that week. It was only on Friday that we finally dropped our dusters and stain removers and sprawled out on the lemon-scented sofa. We admired the tidy house that we haven't seen since one of us last had a friend over.
"Ahhh, yes, finally done...now I can relax. Ok I am going to take a nap now. And don't either of you think of disturbing me! Ok, have fun, and keep the house clean." Mom said in a retired, but stirn voice. When the house had just been clean, she makes it a point not to drastically destroy it again. We always listen, but the house always gradually returns to its chaotic state.
The next day, my penpal and her mother would be arriving at the airport. Until then I couldn't stop thinking about how I was to greet her. We had been exchanging letters for a month now. I knew her fairly well, but not intimately so. For instance, I knew that she had a baby brother who would be staying with his father while she came to visit. I knew that she absolutely adored him and always tried to help out with him in any way she could. I had told her that my parents were divorced and that my father lived far away from us. Mom still had yet to tell us where he resided, but I like to imagine that one day I would meet him somehow. Stacy was very close to her whole family, cousins, aunts, uncles and all. She said that her aunt and uncle were divorced and since then, she considered herself a divorce expert. However, upon hearing my experiences and thoughts on the subject, she wasn't so sure anymore.
How was I to greet someone I knew fairly well, but yet didn't know at all? Should I say "Hello, how are you?" in a formal fashion and shake her hand, or should I say "Hey, what's up?" in the everyday teen vernacular and hug her? I decided to anticipate the latter. After all, Mom and Tracy will most likely greet through embrace, since they've known each other for so long. They've actually met many times before. They've even went on double dates.
That night, when I finally submitted to sleep, I dreamt of meeting my penpal at the airport. Everything went well, we were all smiling and happy. We drove home, and I witnessed a miraculous sight. On the porch of our home, stood Dad with his arm around my beaming mother. I just stared at that picture until it blurred and I awakened. I then sat up in bed, smiling, thinking "if only..."
The sun was not yet up when I was startled awake by my alarm clock. It was fairly dark outside, and the streetlights were still on. Groggy me dragged myself out of bed to get dressed. I attempted to further alert myself with a shower, however that only achieved to lull me half asleep.
By the time I was ready, the sun was rising. Mother called me to the car, along with my sister. We drove for an hour to the airport. My sister and I slept for the whole way there.
"Wake up, girls. We're here. Look decent." Mom woke us up just as she was pulling into a vacant parking slot. We walked to the terminal where we would meet Tracy and Stacy.
By then, I willed myself to be completely alert. That was no problem seeing as how I was already ecstaticly, anxiously awaiting the arrival of my penpal. Waiting for what seemed like forever, Mom suddenly stood up and smiled waved at someone in the distance. I followed her gaze and saw a slender, dark-haired woman with two giant luggage bags. She was followed by a minature version of herself. The mini her was carrying a red handbag and dragging a matching red luggage bag. Peeping out of the red handbag was a little puppy. From the distance, I couldn't tell whether it was stuffed or real.

"Hello, Tracy!" Mom brought her arms around the woman as they both made remarks such as,"It's so nice to see you again! My how your children have grown! I can't wait to tell you about..."
Meanwhile, the girl and I just stared at eachother, not knowing how to react. Finally, Tracy said,"Hello, Sarah, this is my daughter Stacy. She is a little shy at first, but believe me, she is a talker! You two get acquainted!"
"Hi, Sarah. That's a nice name, by the way. I never mentioned that to you before, but I always thought that I would name one of my children that one day."
"Thanks. Um, it's nice to finally get to meet you, Stacy," I replied nervously.
With the same nervousness, Stacy leaned in to hug me. We shared a quick hug before following the rest of the group out to the car.
On the drive home, Mom and Tracy chatted like there was no tomorrow. They talked about us, their families, experiences, and what else was new. Us three girls just sat quietly listening. Now closer to the red handbag, I could clearly see that the puppy was stuffed. I asked Stacy about it for sake of conversation.
"It is my favorite stuffed animal. I've had it since I was a child. My cousin gave it to me for one of my birthdays."
"Oh." I replied.
"So do you have a favorite stuffed animal?"
"No. I used to collect them, though."
"That's interesting. You know my baby brother has started teething. It's really cute." She smiled.
I laughed,"It must be! Do you have any pictures?"
"Yes, of course!" We both bent over her cell phone as she displayed the photos, which we cooed over. The drive was much more pleasant from there. Also, from that point on, the rest of their visit was the best experience I've ever had.

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