Blossom through Change

Changes happen to everybody and most of the time they come unexpected. They might be good or bad, but required for personal growth. Charles and Amy Everwood never imagined that their lives would change after reading a letter and complying with the sender's request. Both of them will soon enter a very different world and face changes, the challenge behind each change is the ability to blossom through them.

 

Blossom through Change

Dearest Charles and Amy Everwood,

For a man of my age, without the vigor and energy of my youth, but with the sincere hope and desire of further experiencing life, I write you this letter, a letter that ought to have been written long time ago. Despite of the span of time that has elapsed, it has not changed the thoughts and meanings behind this letter, nor has the request that it holds been forsaken. I have been negligent of my responsibilities toward the two of you and for that I sincerely apologize. I don’t want to indulge you into thinking that this inattention of mine is the only reason that pushes me into making this bold request, no, the responsibility of being a father and a husband marks duty upon me and sheds light into my guilty conscience.

You may wonder what this palaver I am talking of is. Indeed, I have no doubt that, ignorant as you may be upon the matter, you have not heard enough to be fully acquainted with the history behind those words above. Neither was I acquainted with it until the day I decided to do research of the subject and how it ties so firmly to me. What I found was outrageous at first and I decided to shun it, but the truth couldn’t be hidden forever, so several years later I went back to. Little I did know that my heedless actions would have serious repercussions on the life of the woman I once loved and that of her children.

I was born into the aristocracy of our native land, England, son of a very powerful general who owned the estate of Rosehall in Oxford and who married a woman with powerful connections with the sole purpose of producing an heir. Therefore, I was the only son and heir of both their treasures and their will and the sole scepter of their unconditional love. I grew to be a respectful young man and on my eighteenth birthday I requested permission to leave the estate and explore the country at my will. Naturally, they refused to let me go, arguing that I had to complete a formal, higher education first, which I did. Four years later, at the ripe age of twenty-one, there was no further impediment that would delay my journey. My parents watched me drive away.

I traveled north into the city of Northampton, where I met Darlene Campbell. It was in a study hall, I believe, of the little school in which she taught. It was the night shift and my good sense forbade me to let her walk alone to her home. Darlene wasn’t a woman of great connections nor her family was rich, but nonetheless they were happy. Frequently, I walked her home, never revealing to her about my life in Oxford. She made me. Two years slowly died away and I discovered she held within her my child.

Both of us wept tears of happiness under the moonlight and I felt it was my duty to go back home and announce the happy news to my kinship waiting in Oxford for my return. Darlene didn’t accompanied me, complaining about being nauseous, I understood, after all, she was to be my wife and the bearer of my children. The moment I set foot on Rosehall, I was lavishly bestowed kisses from my weeping mother. My letters had stopped after my first year gone. I told her I met a young lady and wanted to marry her. They would not hear about it, but I was adamant in the subject until finally they compelled to my pleas and joined me on a trip to Northampton.

They met Darlene and felt offended, not only by the fact that she was poor, but also because she had a child before marriage. They refused to see her again and left the next day. Darlene’s heart was crushed and I consoled her. I didn’t hear about my parents for many months, I had broken their heart. Two years filled with hardships rolled by and we were expecting our second baby. We weren’t married yet. Our first was a boy, she named him Charles. I was to name our second joy Amy, but I never got the chance to see her appear in the world for I received a letter from home asking me to be with my father by his deathbed.

I parted Darlene and Charles with promises of coming back, a broken promise. My father passed away in my arms and my mother needed me to comfort her in her solitude, I oblige to her and stayed for two months. I missed my new baby’s birth. A terrible winter struck Northampton and my mother told me that Darlene and my children were dead. My heart wept uncontrollably and Sarah came along.

I married Sarah and produced no heir, she died shortly after and my mother followed within the year. I was left alone and dedicated my life to charitable causes with the schools, hospitals, and farmlands nearby. Some years later, in a party held at Northampton, I heard the name of a young Charles Everwood, the coincidence was too strong to be ignored. From that moment I decided upon making research and found out that Darlene had lived and her children were healthy and young.

What decided against me visiting my former beloved and my children I’d never know, and I have lived to regret that decision for which I wish to make amends. Consider this a formal invitation to my estate, Rosehall in Oxford, soon to be in your possession. The journey is long and I’d like to see Northampton one last time, but ill health and age prevents me of doing so, and so I ask you to come visit me.

You might not know me but I look forward to the day we meet.

Your father,

Frederick Everwood.

The End

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