Story: Letter #2

Dear Mrs.

I am writing to inform you about my pending resignation which is about to occur.

Last night your husband asked me to drive with him to the mini mart, the one with the good eggs and the bad milk, you know the one, and receive change in quarters for his one dollar bill, because he owed me $4.75 and not $5.00.

Your son, I am in love with, but it's not the same kind of love that you have for him, which is why I can leave. You love him enough to have me fill your shoes and I don't love him that much. You love him enough to feel guilt about the size of his birthday presents and concern about the cleanliness of his school uniform. You love him enough to practice your signatures on a napkin (I found them) so that his applications for everything are neat and professional looking. I do not love him that much and that is why I can leave.

I have left the things you have lent me in the back closet. I have returned the shawl with the beads on the fringes because it makes a strange noise when I walk through the aisles of Fairways buying your cheeses and deli meats. I have returned the tweezers you did not know I had. I have returned the note you left me 4 months ago, requesting that we no longer have pizza nights on Thursdays in the household as a preemptive move to curb your son's appetite for inappropriately labeled food groups. I thought you would want that for safe-keeping.

This is the part of the letter where I bring things to a close and let you know that I will be unreachable by phone, but always available by fax. This is the part in the letter where you start to sense that I am bidding à tout à l'heure.

My best to you and your family and future employees and all of your goals and aspirations of which I have not and will not be able to help you accomplish.

Until next time, or sooner,
Ms.