“Did you hear Mum and Dad on the drive back to the hotel?” You sighed before continuing. “They kept saying how next year I’ll show them. Next year will be my year.”
“Yeah, I heard them.”
“I’m worried I’ll disappoint them, but I don’t want to compete next year.”
“Just tell them the truth, Jem, they’ll understand. We can tell them together if you like.”
“I’m so glad I have you on my side,” you said, stretching your hand out towards me. I reached for you, interlacing my fingers with yours.
“Always.”
“Night, Brax.”
“Night, Jem.”
Our fingers remained entwined as we both fell asleep.
What we had is far too beautiful to be forgotten.
Yours always,
Braxton
The running gear Braxton sent over now makes sense. I can’t help but wonder: is he trying to share a memory, or rekindle my passion? Either way, he has me thinking that if I loved to run so much before the accident, maybe it’s something I should get back into. It’s not like I have much else to do. I could run through the neighbourhood or on the beach.
Although I still have a slight limp when I walk, I’ve been doing small sprints on the treadmill during my rehab sessions, to help strengthen my legs. Maybe I could try running on the beach next time I’m there. I should probably check with my physiotherapist first.
I smile when I see the tiny running-shoe charm at the bottom of the envelope. I look down at the memory bracelet on my wrist. It’s so full of memories of my past, but there’s still room for many more.
I don’t want these letters to ever stop.
“You’re up early,” Christine says, coming into the kitchen and rubbing her eyes.
“I’m sorry if I woke you. I was just writing you a note.”
She eyes me up and down, and I see a smile form on her face. “You’re going for a run?”
“I am.” I originally put on the shorts, but the horrible red scars on my leg were visible, so I opted for the three-quarter tights instead. “There’s a bus due in fifteen minutes.”
“A bus?”
“Yes, I want to run on the beach.”
“That was always your favourite place. It’s still dark outside, are you going to be okay?”
“The sun should come up by the time I arrive.”
“It’s times like this I wish I had a driver’s licence,” she says. “I wondered about that. Why don’t you?”
“I’m a shocking driver.” She laughs, shaking her head. “There wasn’t much need for a car growing up in the country. I’d ride my horse everywhere.”
“You had a horse as well?”
“Yes, her name was Frostie,” she says, her smile widening. “I loved that horse. My father bought her for me one Christmas.”
I release a contented sigh. “Pa sounds like he was a good man.”
“He was.”