This Lifetime. | Edward Heffron

XI.

"You signed all your letters as Eggs?" Amelia grinned, gently picking up her grandmother's empty cup that once had tea, "You really called yourself that?" She leaned against the sink, turning on the faucet, and scrubbed at the dishes.

"That was Babe's name for me," the woman smiled sadly, "And calling myself that made me feel like he was still here." Amelia turned to see her grandmother staring out the window.

"El," her sister called from downstairs, "Mails here!"

She had just woken up and was staring at the ceiling when she heard her sisters voice. Sitting up quickly, she didn't bother to comb her hair or wash her face. Eleanor ran downstairs, skipping a few steps on the way down but still managing to maintain her balance. Babe had finally written back!

A month had gone by since she had mailed him that first letter, and everyday, she anxiously awaited for his reply to arrive.

Her mother watched her with curious eyes as she rushed to their mailbox and took out the letter. Eleanor did a little dance and stopped when she realized her mother was standing by the door frame. "So," she began, drying her hands on her apron,"I thought he'd never write back."

Eleanor stuck out her tongue and walked right past her, bounding up towards her room. Her mother watched as she walked up the stairs, the same Eleanor who had been lethargic all month wondering if her letter would ever get to him was suddenly so full of life again.

She sighed and went back to doing the dishes.