The Reminder (story by Jill inspired by Jennifer's photo)

 

What stood out to me with this photo prompt given to me on May 7, 2021, was the XOXO on the squid. It made me think of someone signing a note. And then I wrote this story … 

The Reminder

    If I had known that was the last note she was ever going to write me, I would have kept it. 

    I had found the note in my work tote as I was looking for my lunch. I’m not sure how I hadn’t seen it earlier. It was sort of propped on the top of my bag in such a way that it was almost falling out. Except for a tiny bit of stickiness on the outside of my lunch bag, it surely would have blown away as I walked into work, and I never would have seen it.

    When I had seen it, it was one of those moments that happened in the flash of a second, and maybe under different circumstances, I would have tucked it back in the bag. 

    But I hadn’t.

    It reminded me of so many lunch bag notes that I had written for her many years ago when she was a small child and not this almost woman of 17—two weeks from high school graduation. 

    Why hadn’t I kept it—just for the sake of that? 

    I mean, maybe I had thought there would be so many more? 

    But probably it had more to do with the fact that our maintenance man had walked in as I was pulling it from its sticky surface. “Hi, Jim,” I had said to him as he entered our office. 

    “Clara,” he said, nodding his head in my direction.

    I looked down at the paper as he was walking to collect the trash from the other side of the room. The note had simply said, “Mom, you told me to remind you that I’m going shopping for graduation dresses with Lena after school. Here’s your reminder. XOXO, Polly”

    I sure had told her that—to remind me. And I smiled and laughed as Jim was walking back toward my desk. “Hey, how’s your dog?” I said as he was bending down for my bin. 

    “Not too bad. He’s coming along.” Jim had paused, mid bend, to smile at me. And instinctively, I tossed the slip of paper into the bin just before he grabbed it.

    “Oh, good!” I said.

    It wasn’t until later that I had registered what I had done. I had thrown out her last note, just tossed it right in without thinking.

    Polly died on her way home from the mall, and I buried her with a note tucked into the pocket of the graduation dress she had picked, “Polly, thanks for the reminder. You’re the best daughter, and I love you more than you’ll ever know. XOXO, Mom”

—Jill Morse (written May 9, 2021)