Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
There was a small USPS envelope resting inside it, neatly sealed atop a pile of decade-old nail polish. My body wilted with relief. It was so supremely Dad to use a USPS envelope. He liked free stuff. Our ideal dinner used to be Costco samples with their sundae for dessert.
Padding over to my study area, I pulled a small metal ruler from my bleached denim pencil case and used it to rip the letter open. I tugged the single A4 page out along with a postcard, struggling for breath, knowing these were going to be the only new words I’d ever get from him.
My eyes burned at the sight of his familiar handwriting. He had the most distinctive penmanship. Cursive and neat, it looked like it belonged in another century.
Dear Callichka,
If you’re reading this, it means that I’m gone. I hope you decided to spend a few weeks with your mother. I think you can both use the time together, and while I’m not sure what kept you away from Staindrop this long, running away from a problem never gets rid of it. Problems are like monsters. Fearing them only feeds them and makes them bigger. Please remember you are stronger than whatever wall is standing in your way. All you need is the right momentum (Newton, laws one, two, three).
My chest filled with warmth. The first thing he’d wanted from me, I’d already pledged to do—I was going to spend some time with Mom.
A little riddle to break the ice:
Question: Why did the scientist take out his doorbell?
Answer: Because he wanted to win the no-bell prize.
(Kindly pretend to laugh at this. If I find it extremely funny, even in my current state, then so should you.)
Now that you’re in an agreeable mood, I need you to do a few things for me. Allow me to point out that you are not in a position to turn me down, complain, and/or argue because I’m:
Dead, and therefore cannot hear you.
Always right.
100% going to haunt you if you fail me. I have a lot of free time right now, Callichka. Do not try me.
I thought long and hard about what it was I wanted from you. Birthdays, if you ask me, are overrated. It is death days in which you are granted all your wishes. And sure, I could’ve asked you to finally start your podcast, get things moving, take the plunge. But I believe that you cannot rush art and growth. So I’m going to let you take your first steps into your career at your own pace, even if I find it outrageously slow.
I snorted. My dad had been a teenager when he’d moved to America. He’d still had this Soviet air about him. A sternness that had collectively labeled anyone without a steady career, two degrees, and the durability to drink their own body weight an utter, useless slacker.
These are my two requests for you (and remember, you CANNOT say no):
Take me somewhere nice and spread my ashes. Let me explain. I’m afraid your mother will use my presence in her living room as an excuse not to move on. She deserves to move on. Deserves to fall in love, to laugh, to enjoy the remainder of her days. Which brings me to my next point: I would really rather not be there, on the mantel, when she and her new partner make out for the first time. Yes, I want her to move on. No, I don’t want it happening in front of my face. Or rather, dust. Spread my ashes somewhere beautiful and tranquil. Somewhere with a great view. Somewhere I can be free.
Remember how much you loved running? You stopped for the wrong reason. Whatever it was, it wasn’t worth it. Pick it up again. You’re not truly free until you break the chains of your fears. And you, Callichka, are afraid of running. Once you get rid of that anxiety, you will become invincible. You will record your podcast. You will push the envelope. You were made for stardom. So go on. Touch the sky. That’s where I’ll be waiting for you.
I’ve enclosed a little something for you to consider. Just an idea.
And always remember what I told you: the darkness envies the moon because it helps it shine. Don’t let people tell you you are anything less than perfect.
Love you more than a flower loves the sun,
—Dad.
I was crying so hard, it took me ten minutes to manage to read the card Dad had included in his letter. It was a 10K run for a children’s hospital in Portland. The run was set to take place here in Staindrop on Christmas Day, less than seven weeks away.
Admittedly, the slogan—10K for Kiddies—wasn’t the height of sophisticated copywriting. It sounded diabolical, not to mention extremely illegal. But I got why Dad wanted me to do something like this. It would make me commit to running every day, something I hadn’t done in years. It would be for a great cause—helping children. And it was also taking place right here, so it would force me to stick around for at least a few weeks.