Tu Me Manques

They started writing in high school. Brief, stilted letters from Linda struggling with schoolgirl French, and from Amelie, longer, beautifully typed epistles in English. It began at the instigation of Linda’s language teacher, but after struggling to describe the beautiful apple tree in her garden, Linda soon abandoned writing in French. The exchange of ideas, descriptions of homes and discussions on boys and school flowed much easier in English.

Amelie too had an apple tree visible through her window. The beautiful descriptions of the French countryside and the characters that lived in her small village kept Linda entertained. She would hover around the mailbox and sit with the letter under the apple tree – dreaming of France. Each letter she wrote began with a description of her tree. Fruiting, bare, budding, leafy green, or in blossom. No matter what time of year, she loved that tree.

Amelie began her letters the same way.

‘Today I picked a juicy red apple and ate it while reading your letter.’

‘The last of the leaves have fallen; I am reading your letter rugged up against the cold,’ Linda would reply.

‘The sun is shining and the blossoms are falling softly.’

‘Here the winds have quickened and the leaves are turning.’

Linda dreamed of visiting France, of seeing the beautiful areas that Emilie described, and of meeting her friend…..

Linda packed for her holiday, ready to surprise her longtime friend. The mail and the taxi arrived together. Seeing the French postmark, Linda smiled; she would read the letter on the plane.

Amelie’s parents wrote sad news. Amelie had finally succumbed to her illness, but they would still love to meet Linda. Her letters had given Amelie an escape from illness. Stunned, Linda arrived at a suburban address and was shown Amelie’s room. Her gaze took in the silent heart monitor, the type-to-text recorder and the brick wall visible through the window. Next to the window was a large painting of a rural French scene and an apple tree covered in blossoms.

Through her tears, Linda imagined a vibrant Amelie reading letters under that apple tree.