Melissa and I looked down.
Beneath Dorothy’s letter lay another envelope.
On the front, in Melissa’s old handwriting, were four words.
FOR MY FUTURE SELF.
Melissa stared at it.
“I don’t remember writing that.”
“Do you want to open it?”
She picked it up carefully.
For nearly a minute she simply held it.
Then she slid one finger beneath the seal.
Inside were three handwritten pages.
She read the first sentence silently.
Her expression changed.
“What does it say?” I asked.
Melissa looked at me, tears bright in her eyes.
“It says I was afraid of forgetting who mattered.”
She turned the page.
Then suddenly she stopped.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“There’s something here about Calvin.”
My stomach tightened.
Melissa continued reading.
Then she looked toward the closed door.
“This was written before we were married.”
“What does it say?”
Her eyes moved back to the letter.
“It says if life ever changes us, I shouldn’t confuse keeping a promise with keeping a life exactly the same.”
