A message in a bottle

A message in a bottle

6:38

I was running on an empty beach in the morning when a message in a bottle washes up on the shore. It looks pretty old and antique, must’ve been in the sea for a while. Maybe it’s 10, maybe 20 years old? It looks rustic, very worn but somehow intact. It has a black leather tie around the rolled, off-white paper. It has some impression in ink running through from the inside to the outside. The ink is black and one can make out it is written in cursive. Perhaps it was written using an ink pen just like in old times. The edges of the paper don’t have sharp ends, more uneven. Should I open it? Am I allowed to open it? Was it meant to find me? See, this beach is rarely ever empty. Millions walk on this beach every single day, yet I found this on a random Tuesday morning at 7 a.m. while I’m running? My chances seem too good to be true. Am I possibly dreaming? Should I wake up voluntarily or continue to open the bottle? What the hell, let’s do it. I’m opening the bottle.

As I open the bottle, I smell a strong perfume, something I haven’t smelled in recent years. It has floral notes to it. I’m not able to tell accurately, my mind racing to understand these strong floral notes. Does it smell of peonies? And maybe Jasmine? Maybe a hint of lily too. It has a very earthy, instantly captivating kind of smell. In that moment of smelling and identifying, the scent brought me a sense of calm amidst the chaos of my mind shuffling through every floral scent I registered. In that calm, I observe there’s a little bit of water and sand inside the bottle. The letter is rolled and sealed with a black leather tie in a beautiful bow. I’m surprised how the letter is still intact with that large drop of water inside it. I pop the brown, slightly muddy cork open and as I untie the black leather tie it feels heavy because it is wet—the tie had soaked in a lot of water. The paper, however, feels extremely thick and unfamiliar to the touch. It now makes sense how the letter lasted this long despite the water. I’m curious if this is from the recent past or from a long, long time ago. I continue to open the letter, untying the leather tie and rolling it out. The letter reveals a beautiful cursive handwriting. I instantly want to convert this to a font on my laptop later. The letter is delicate when I hold it but it is still very sturdy. The delicacy and intricacies of the handwriting are drawing me in and now I feel compelled to know what the letter holds.

“Dearest Jonathan,

I hope you are happy and well. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for years now. When we parted ways, we decided not to contact each other no matter what. But shortly after that, I found out I was pregnant. I tried reaching you only to find out you had moved countries and left no other piece of information with anyone. I tried many ways to connect with you but it was all in vain. I sit in our favorite room overlooking the porch, gazing at the ocean and listening to the waves when I decide to pen this to you. Conveniently, I had my pen and paper with me - old habits die hard. As I look at the endless sea, a dawning realization comes to me that even though we are miles apart, the ocean still connects us. And so, I write this to you—secrets from the past that will reveal themselves to you when the time is right or perhaps when you are ready and have forgiven us for the past. It took me time too, Jonathan.

Our daughter was born on the 14th of February. She was gorgeous, had long hair and the prettiest eyes. On her 5th birthday, I met Matthew. Matthew and I became friends because of our children. His son and our daughter went to the same class and playgroup. Matthew lost his wife in a car accident shortly after Jason (his son) was born. Matthew and I had a lot in common that made conversations flow natural between us. We quickly became good friends. He’s heard all our stories from when we were together. Life has a way of bringing unexpected things when you least expect them. I never thought I’d find love again but it did knock on my door once more, completely unexpectedly. After three years of knowing Matthew, he proposed. Six months after that, we got married. Matthew and I had a good companionship for 20 years of our marriage. He passed away a year ago. I now live in our old neighborhood, where you and I spent most of our time getting to know each other and falling in love. Remember those roads we ran on? The park where we learned to ride a bike? That tree in the park where we kissed for the first time? It’s all the same yet very different. The slide in the children’s park is still broken; after all these years, no one bothered to fix it. I guess mending isn’t that easy after all. I continue to run every day just like we used to along the shoreline on wet sand. I can’t run as fast now, age has been catching up to me at 40!

If this letter finds you, I’d like you to know that your daughter knows about you. I’ve told her stories about when we were together. Matthew was an amazing father to her. Her name is Lily! Lily had a ton of questions about you, especially when she was young, but she slowly stopped asking. She wishes you on your birthday every year and brings you her favorite flowers, which used to be sunflowers but then became white lilies. Matthew always encouraged her to stay connected to you as much as she could. Lily is now 19! Time truly flies. She is a big girl with big dreams. She knows how to use the computer and has taught Matthew and me a thing or two. 

We have always hoped you are doing well Jonathan. Despite how things went down between us, I hope you found happiness wherever you are. It’s funny how motherhood triumphs over every other relationship you’ve ever had. I was mad at first for not being able to get through to you but eventually, motherhood made me forgive both of us for all our mistakes. When our daughter is this beautiful, you come to realize this couldn’t have been a mistake.

Love, Ruth Feb, 1998”

February, 2025

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, events, or places is purely coincidental.