The pen rested atop the blank sheet of paper as Solono stared at it as if something was going to magically appear. Twenty minutes had passed and the only thing he could concentrate on was the family of gnats that seemed to be following him everywhere. Months had passed since he received Milagro's letter and his response was overdue.
To be at this point was a milestone. This wasn't the first time that he sat staring at a blank sheet of paper. There were a few other attempts but all he succeeded in doing was creating a substantial pile of crumpled paper.
One night while lying in bed, he decided the next morning, after breakfast, to take a three-hour bike ride to his birthplace, Areguá. Visiting might help stir up feelings and assist him in filling the blank sheet of paper with genuine emotions.
The next morning, Solono peddled rapidly through Asunción, over the wooden bridge that hovered over the Paraguay River, down Mariscal Lopez Ave, and through Democracy Square. Before he realized it, the town that had become a part of him was miles behind him. The further he got away from Asunción the harder he peddled. Red dust from the narrow dirt roads left clouds of smoke in his trail as peasants and farmers looked on. Occasionally he would pause to catch his breath and take in the scenery but not for long. After a few sips of water, his journey continued.
Light sprinkles fell, so he climbed off his bicycle and took a break alongside a huge tree that provided shade. He pulled a few pieces of bread from his backpack and snacked as he observed his surroundings. Nothing looked familiar. Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out his map; he wasn't far from his destination.
After climbing back onto his bicycle and peddling for about ten minutes, he observed a rainbow over the chimney of a cottage. He peddled faster. The cottage was old with half the roof missing. A huge tree had fallen on top of it destroying the entire backside. Three-foot grass surrounded the structure. Looking through the glassless windows, he saw traces of the interior layout. Numerous nests and small animal carcasses were scattered everywhere. This skeleton was his home.
While clearing a path he heard a voice. His father's voice.
"Solono, where are you?"
Solono ducked into the high grass hoping the voice would stop. He shut his eyes tight and counted to ten before opening them and returning to his feet.
"There you are. What's wrong with you? I know you heard me calling."
A handsome, grey-haired man in his fifties walked out of the bungalow that was now complete and clean with glass in its windows and painted a cheerful hue. He walked toward Solono with both arms extended. Solono stood frozen as the man tightly hugged him and kissed him on the forehead.
"Are you my father?"
"Did you fall and hit your head? Who else would I be? Today we're supposed to go fishing. Are you ready to go?"
Not understanding what was happening, Solono nodded.
"Help me load up the truck so we can get to the river before the fish decide they don't want to bite."
"Wait a minute, you're dead." Papa burst into laughter. "Dead? If I'm dead, how am I here speaking to you? By the way, how is the family?"
"But you are my family."
"Your other family. The family you currently live with. Is everyone well?"
"Stop it. This is insane."
Papa motioned for Solono to have a seat at a wooden table that he hadn't noticed before. They sat, and Papa reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded sheet of paper, and placed it on top of the table.
"What's that?" said Solono.
"Your mom and sister sends their greetings. They can't believe how you've grown. Neither can I."
"Where are they? I want to see them."
"In the house."
"I'm going in."
"I'm sorry, but you can't."
"Why not?"
"You just can't."
Solono glanced over at the house and heard two female voices laughing inside.
"Am I dead?" Solono asked.
His father chuckled. "No, you're not dead. Far from it."
"So why am I here?"
"You know why you came, don't you?"
"Yes, to write a letter."
"Yes, the infamous letter. To Milagro, correct?" Papa pushed the paper closer to Solono.
"How'd you know?"
"Because you're my son, Solono. I know everything about you."
"She's beautiful, father. I love her."
"Well, tell her that in your letter. Tell her how you feel. Don't hold anything back."
"Ok, Papa."
"You sit right here, and I'll go inside and get you something to write with. I'll be right back."
"Ok, Papa."
"Before I forget, I just want to say I know your plans. Even though I wouldn't recommend it, I support you."
"What plans?"
Papa smiled, got up, and walked towards the cottage. Solono sat with his back to the cottage so he didn't see Papa enter. When he turned to tell his family that he loved them, he was shocked to see the cottage had returned to its old, abandoned state. He leaped from the grass. Where was the chair he was just sitting on? The table? Where was Papa?
He screamed and collapsed to the ground, crying himself to sleep.
A sudden gust of wind felt like hands shoving him to awaken him. Jumping up he noticed that he had dozed off near the tree where he had stopped to rest. He had never made it to the cottage. It was all a dream.
While dusting off the dirt from his clothing, he felt something in his pocket. It was the paper Papa had given him, no longer blank. On it was written a beautifully crafted letter, full of passion and emotion. He read the first few paragraphs before neatly folding and stuffing it in his pocket.
Climbing atop his bicycle, he journeyed back to Asunción.
When he arrived at the Palace, he crept to his room and took the letter out of his pocket. He contemplated reading it in its entirety but instead grabbed the bible from his book shelf and hid the letter between its pages. He read the first bible verse he set his eyes on:
Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.