Phase 3 Metaspeculation
Cross-Border
Speculative Narrative
The letter I wrote to Lucy
“ Dear Lucy, far across the sea, how long have we not seen each other. I love reading all the things you say through these letters. It’s been a long time since I’ve got one from you. Do you still remember me? I’m sorry that I was always working and many times that I didn’t reply. For many times that I started trying to write you but I wrote and discarded and I rewrote. So many things I wanted to tell you but I don’t know if you still remember me. I thought about you and where we played when we were just two little kids having fun. I miss the green backyard, I miss Mona, your dog when you were little. We used to run around playing fetch with Mona everyday after school. We only live across the border line, but yet it seems so far and different. I had been living all by myself in a small place and nothing near the word home that I used to know. Home for you is way different. Not that I don’t like it here, there are so many good things about this place, but now that I’m reaching my final chapter in life, I really want to settle down somewhere I could grow old and be happy. Everything here is in order and so have my life. All my time here I’ve been working and working. I don’t want to keep on working because I have too. I’m tired of working. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in a nursing home here. How nice would it be to be able to relax and lay back everything. To wake up in the morning without needing to go to work. To worry about the paycheck and all the costs. I live alone and I need to support myself. If I retire, I don’t know if my savings will be enough. I would always look out my window across the sea and kept telling myself that one day I would go back. I thought maybe I could stay here and be happy but everything here is now pushing me to leave. I feel the silence in my everyday. My room seems smaller like the walls are pushing in. Maybe I could use the rest of my savings to find a home there instead of spending it here where I could only afford a small box. How funny it is that there’s so much differences between this imaginary line.”
I wrote this letter to Lucy hoping she would reply, hoping that she would come and see me when cross back to the place where she is living. Hoping maybe we could spend the rest of our lives in a home where there’s grass on the front and back, a dog and a happy ending.
