Ella colocó los sobres en su regazo.
Then, she looked at me.
"Sam, sit."
I pulled a chair closer.
My stomach tightened.
Susan desató lentamente la cinta azul.
The envelopes beneath it were yellowed with age.
Then, I saw the handwriting.
My chest tightened.
I knew it.
Lo había visto en tarjetas de cumpleaños, listas de compras, recibos de permisos escolares y notas pegadas al refrigerador.
Me quedé tan rápido que la silla se raspó por el suelo.
"No".
Susan's eyes filled.
"Sit down, Sam."
I could barely breathe.
"¿De dónde los has sacado?"
Greg miró entre nosotros.
"¿Qué está pasando?"
Susan lifted the first envelope.
"Sam's mother gave them to me."
The room went still.
"You knew my mother?" I asked.
Susan asintió.
"Durante muchos años".
Mis rodillas se debilitaron y me senté.
"Era una de mis amigas más cercanas", dijo Susan.
La miré.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Porque me pidió que no lo hiciera, a menos que tuvieras que saberlo".
"That doesn't make sense."
"It will."
Susan rested one hand over the letters.
"Your mother and I met years before you moved across the street from me. We stayed in touch. She told me about you and your siblings, and about how proud she was when all of you built lives of your own."
My throat burned.
"When she became ill, she wrote letters," Susan continued. "She planned to mail them. Then she changed her mind."
"¿Por qué?"
"Porque pensó que te harían volver a casa por culpa".
Su voz tembló.
"Tu madre nunca quiso que tus últimos recuerdos de ella se construyeran sobre la obligación".
