Thursday’s flowers are sitting in a vase on the kitchen table next to last week’s Honeysuckles. On the counter there are hundreds of old dried flowers. Some aged more gracefully than others. I recognize the Queen Rockets, the Tea Roses, the Orange Blossoms and too many others.Mrs. Barrett’s daughter watched me run my fingers over the crinkled leaves before she spoke. “I found them all over the house.

In books, on shelves, in the dishwasher.” I didn’t know what to say. “Mom never mentioned you, though.”My eyes met the stacks of envelopes and she noticed, too. “I’m not sure what those are yet, I haven’t finished going through them.”I didn’t take my eyes off the letters, but opened my mouth to speak. “March twenty seventh, nineteen twenty seven….”"What?”"”My dearest Marie, it has been only months, though the days grow longer…” She just stared at me, bewildered. Not sure what to make of this.”I read that letter to your mother every Thursday for the last four and a half years.

It is from your father, when he was overseas, before you were born.”This morning, I look in the mirror. The sparrow has migrated to my left shoulder blade, trying to hide from me.”I see you.”Now he is on my hip. Today, the banner in his mouth says nothing. For, there is nothing to say.It has been four days since I have been to the shop. I’m sure my boss knows by now. There are still seventeen voice messages on my phone.Tomorrow, I will look in the mirror. The sparrow will be staring me right in the face; he won’t be able to escape this time for he will have a heavy message to relay.Tomorrow, and the next day, and for as many days as the tattoo ink lasts, the banner in his beak reads:

March 27, 1927

My dearest Marie, It has only been months, though the days grow longer, making it seem like years since I have been able to feel your touch or run my fingers through your delicate locks. The rain in London only prolongs my daydreams of the day I will return to you and our family. While I have not seen the sun for many days, I feel as if your love is all the warmth I will ever need to feel. I just wish that it was closer. I remember the last day we spent together, in August. Has it been so long since I have last felt your embrace, Marie? Do you remember the meadow and the wild grass? We had no use for the giant blanket we brought as we were swallowed up by the wheat fields anyway. I only dream of the next time I can run through the fields with you, Marie. I savor the next kiss we will share, for I know it will not be our last and that it will be soon. Soon, Marie, I promise.

Yours, forever and until the end of time Edward