have. That’s all that counts Patience. Repentance is all that counts. As he used to tell us, ‘go and sin no more,’ so just do that.”
Later, when Tad shared the late night confession with his father, Warren laughed. He could just see the frustration and consternation on her face, and it was more than a little amusing.
Then he hesitated, wondering if Tad was encouraging Patience to disregard her conscience, but Tad’s parting words reminded him that his son had her best interests at heart. “Don’t worry, Dad,” Tad had reassured, “Now that I’ve told you, I’ll let her know you know. She just needed to see that sometimes doing the right thing means you aren’t in even more trouble. I could see her trying it again later—she was so discouraged.”
“Discouraged how?”
“That no matter what she did, she was still going to be in trouble—that making it right just meant delayed punishment. Now that I’ve told you, I’ll tell her and she’ll realize that you understand how repentant she was…”
“In other words,” Warren said nodding, “this was a reminder that even little girls need mercy from time to time or they get embittered—kind of like church members?”
“Kind of.”
~*~*~*~
Emails flew back and forth for a few weeks. Letters soared lazily across country in comparison, but the Argosys enjoyed the correspondence and the variety of it all. Patience wrote faithfully about her friends, the animals, her dreams, and mini-dramas. Lane still struggled with comfort in typing her thoughts but enjoyed the rapidity with which their correspondence could transpire.
However, Lane’s favorite times were driving home from the Post Office, pulling into her favorite grove of trees, climbing to the top of the hill, and reading Matt’s letters as the sun slowly set over a pasture of grazing sheep. She always sat, her back leaning against a lone pine, and read about his struggles with his online class, his worries about his aunt’s health, and doubts about what to do with his life.
One such afternoon in early June, Lane climbed to her favorite spot and settled in with Matt’s latest letter. This one was thicker than most, making her eagerly anticipate the contents as well as speculate as to the cause. She carefully tore a tiny strip from the edge of the right side of the envelope and slipped the letter from its wrapping.
Dear Lane,
I miss your laugh. I saw something the other day that I knew would amuse you, and I could just hear you laugh—almost. That was disappointing. Not the remembrance of your laugh, but when I couldn’t quite hear it in my mind. Three dogs chased a cat up a tree barking and snapping at the trunk. The cat sat up there hissing and batting the air like it would do any good. Eventually, the cat got tired of it or something, because it just jumped on the back of one of the dogs and dug in. That dog howled and raced down the street. The other dogs saw the cat and chased after the dog. They went around the block twice before disappearing somewhere. I have no idea where, but I heard that dog yelping for a long time.
Anyway, as it happened, I laughed so hard that I had to wipe tears away from my eyes and that reminded me of you laughing about me trying to “shoo” sheep. You have such a beautiful laugh. I think Patience might get your voice. I hope so. There are too many high-pitched Betty Boop-sounding women in this world.
My mom says I have Rocky Mountain Sheep Fever. I think she knows I left part of me back in Argosy Junction. Dad and I talked about what I want to do with my life; we’ve never done that before. People in my life rarely make plans for their futures; they just go along and maintain status quo.
My father has always worked for the RUT (subway). He started as a maintenance operator and worked his way up to foreman. I trained in a skilled trade, and in our family, that’s big. I’m shift supervisor now, and in five more years, I’ll probably be up
Later, when Tad shared the late night confession with his father, Warren laughed. He could just see the frustration and consternation on her face, and it was more than a little amusing.
Then he hesitated, wondering if Tad was encouraging Patience to disregard her conscience, but Tad’s parting words reminded him that his son had her best interests at heart. “Don’t worry, Dad,” Tad had reassured, “Now that I’ve told you, I’ll let her know you know. She just needed to see that sometimes doing the right thing means you aren’t in even more trouble. I could see her trying it again later—she was so discouraged.”
“Discouraged how?”
“That no matter what she did, she was still going to be in trouble—that making it right just meant delayed punishment. Now that I’ve told you, I’ll tell her and she’ll realize that you understand how repentant she was…”
“In other words,” Warren said nodding, “this was a reminder that even little girls need mercy from time to time or they get embittered—kind of like church members?”
“Kind of.”
~*~*~*~
Emails flew back and forth for a few weeks. Letters soared lazily across country in comparison, but the Argosys enjoyed the correspondence and the variety of it all. Patience wrote faithfully about her friends, the animals, her dreams, and mini-dramas. Lane still struggled with comfort in typing her thoughts but enjoyed the rapidity with which their correspondence could transpire.
However, Lane’s favorite times were driving home from the Post Office, pulling into her favorite grove of trees, climbing to the top of the hill, and reading Matt’s letters as the sun slowly set over a pasture of grazing sheep. She always sat, her back leaning against a lone pine, and read about his struggles with his online class, his worries about his aunt’s health, and doubts about what to do with his life.
One such afternoon in early June, Lane climbed to her favorite spot and settled in with Matt’s latest letter. This one was thicker than most, making her eagerly anticipate the contents as well as speculate as to the cause. She carefully tore a tiny strip from the edge of the right side of the envelope and slipped the letter from its wrapping.
Dear Lane,
I miss your laugh. I saw something the other day that I knew would amuse you, and I could just hear you laugh—almost. That was disappointing. Not the remembrance of your laugh, but when I couldn’t quite hear it in my mind. Three dogs chased a cat up a tree barking and snapping at the trunk. The cat sat up there hissing and batting the air like it would do any good. Eventually, the cat got tired of it or something, because it just jumped on the back of one of the dogs and dug in. That dog howled and raced down the street. The other dogs saw the cat and chased after the dog. They went around the block twice before disappearing somewhere. I have no idea where, but I heard that dog yelping for a long time.
Anyway, as it happened, I laughed so hard that I had to wipe tears away from my eyes and that reminded me of you laughing about me trying to “shoo” sheep. You have such a beautiful laugh. I think Patience might get your voice. I hope so. There are too many high-pitched Betty Boop-sounding women in this world.
My mom says I have Rocky Mountain Sheep Fever. I think she knows I left part of me back in Argosy Junction. Dad and I talked about what I want to do with my life; we’ve never done that before. People in my life rarely make plans for their futures; they just go along and maintain status quo.
My father has always worked for the RUT (subway). He started as a maintenance operator and worked his way up to foreman. I trained in a skilled trade, and in our family, that’s big. I’m shift supervisor now, and in five more years, I’ll probably be up
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