I tried to make sense of his note, but it was just gibberish. He had taken them books with him, so I knew he wasn’t going off to kill himself. When I checked with the bank, they said he’d cleaned out his college fund on Friday. That bothered me, but not for the reasons you’d think. There wasn’t all that much in it, for one. And the money was his, set aside for his future.
Other than that, I had nothing to go on. I didn’t even know the names of his friends. I never stopped thinking about him, but there wasn’t nothing I could do.
One October day about a year after he left, I got a postcard. On the front was a cactus. He’d wrote a single sentence in ballpoint pen, all capital letters: SUNLIGHT OF THE SPIRT. That boy never could spell.
The postmark read: Landers, California.
That typo was really bugging me and I cracked up when I saw it was intentional. It appears that boy is seeking an entirely different sort of education–a spiritual one where things can be spelt however they like.
Great voice and great story!
Dear J Hardy,
Still laughing. “That boy never could spell.” Wonerful righting as always. ;)
Shalom,
Rochelle
What far out trips your Pegman took us on this week. I like this parent.
Like others I thought it was a typo until all was revealed. Great story and thanks for the prompt, a good one.
This was a really evocative story. Loved it!
I enjoyed this very much. The voice really made it spark.
Like some other folks, I looked up “spirt”. I can’t relate what Urban Dictionary says about it except it’s something someone does when excited.
Thanks to the typo the story really made sense, big sense. Evocative.