This is absolutely beautiful. Thanks for sharing.
Sherri On 12/16/06, send stuff here <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost > in the street I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification > so > > I could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars and a > crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years. > > The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the > return address. I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue Then > I saw > > the dateline; 1924. The letter had been written almost sixty years ago. > > It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationery > with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a "Dear John" letter > > that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael, that the writer > could not see him any more because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote > > that she would always love him. It was signed, Hannah. > > It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name Michael, > that the owner could be identified. Maybe if I called information, the > operator > > could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope. > > "Operator," I began, "this is an unusual request. I'm trying to find the > owner of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell me if there is > a > > phone number for an address that was on an envelope in the wallet?" > > She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then > said, "Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can't give you > the > > number." She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my > story and would ask them if they wanted her to connect me. I waited a few > minutes > > and then she was back on the line. "I have a party who will speak with you." > > I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the > name of Hannah. She gasped, "Oh! We bought this house from a family who had > a > > daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years ago!" > > "Would you know where that family could be located now?" I asked. > > "I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some years > ago," the woman said. "Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be > able > > to track down the daughter." > > She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number They told > me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone > number > > for where they thought the daughter might be living. > > I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah > herself was now living in a nursing home. > > This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I making such a > big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and > a > > letter that was almost 60 years old? > > Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be > living and the man who answered the phone told me, "Yes, Hannah is staying > with > > us." > > Even though it was already 10 p.m., I asked if I could come by to see her. > "Well," he said hesitatingly, "if you want to take a chance, she might be in > > the day room watching television." > > I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a > guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large > building. > > In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah. > > She was a sweet, silver-haired old timer with a warm smile and a twinkle in > her eye. > > I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second > she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she > took > > a deep breath and said, "Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever > had with Michael." > > She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said softly, "I loved > him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too > young. > > Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like Sean Connery, the actor." > > "Yes," she continued. "Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person. If you > should find him, tell him I think of him often. And," she hesitated for a > moment, > > almost biting her lip, "tell him I still love him. You know," she said > smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes, "I never did marry. I guess > no > > one ever matched up to Michael..." > > I thanked Hannah and said good-bye. I took the elevator to the first floor > and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, "Was the old lady able to > > help you?" > > I told him she had given me a lead. "At least I have a last name But I think > I'll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find the > > owner of this wallet." > > I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red > lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, "Hey, wait a minute! > That's > > Mr. Goldstein's wallet. I'd know it anywhere with that bright red lacing. > He's always losing that wallet. I must have found it in the halls at least > > three times." > > "Who's Mr. Goldstein?" I asked as my hand began to shake. > > "He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor. That's Mike Goldstein's wallet > for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks." > > I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse's office I told her > what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on. I prayed > > that Mr. Goldstein would be up. > > On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, "I think he's still in the day > room. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man." > > We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading > a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet. Mr > > Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said, > "Oh, it is missing!" > > "This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?" > > I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with > relief and said, "Yes, that's it! It must have dropped out of my pocket this > > afternoon. I want to give you a reward." > > "No, thank you," I said. "But I have to tell you something. I read the > letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet." > > The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. "You read that letter?" > > "Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is." > > He suddenly grew pale. "Hannah? You know where she is? How is she? Is she > still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me," he begged. > > "She's fine...just as pretty as when you knew her." I said softly. > > The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, "Could you tell me where she > is? I want to call her tomorrow." He grabbed my hand and said, "You know > something, > > mister, I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came, my life > literally ended. I never married. I guess I've always loved her. " > > "Mr. Goldstein," I said, "come with me." > > We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened and > only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where Hannah > > was sitting alone watching the television. > > The nurse walked over to her. > > "Hannah," she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in > the doorway "Do you know this man?" > > Hannah adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a word. > Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, "Hannah, it's Michael. Do you > remember > > me?" > > She gasped, "Michael! I don't believe it! Michael! It's you! My Michael!" > > He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with > tears streaming down our faces. > > "See," I said. "See how the Good Lord works! If it's meant to be, it will > be." > > About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home "Can > you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding? Michael and Hannah are going > > to tie the knot!" > > It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed > up to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked > beautiful. > > Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. They made me their best man. > > The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a > > 76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had > to see this couple. > > A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years. > > Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only love will leave > footprints in your heart. > > > > > > --~--~---------~--~----~------------~-------~--~----~ Access the Recipes And More list archives at: http://www.mail-archive.com/recipesandmore%40googlegroups.com/ Visit the group home page at: http://groups.google.com/group/RecipesAndMore -~----------~----~----~----~------~----~------~--~---
