"Please, I need your help with this letter.. I don't want it to get lost."
He said it in a very way that I almost burst into laugh.
It was a very hot Sunday afternoon, and I was already outside the church premises, in a church I usually attend in Lagos State. I was helping a friend with something on his phone. The church generator was making a familiar clicking sound as it was sounding like the petrol in it is about to finish. And somewhere near the church street, a truck kept sounding its horn because that around to the street was very narrow.
My friend that I was helping with something on his phone opened the boot of his car and brought out a small carton filled with some files that it looks like he hasn't touched for weeks. In it were some old photographs, personal documents, receipts, some notes I can barely see what was written on, and clothes that still smelled faintly of something that has been stored up for a while.
Then she brought out a purple envelope and brought out the letter in it.
The inner letter was folded just twice, and the edges were slightly brown. Before giving me the envelope, he placed it inside one of the white face towels he brought it out with.
“Keep the face towel safe with you,” he said. "The letter is inside.”
I asked him who wrote it.
He smiled.
“My mother.”
We are close, and we tell each other things. So, in the letter, I was expecting to read something dramatic his mother wrote him or a will they kept for him somewhere. Instead, it was just a simple letter from a few years ago when he just gained admission and was about to leave home for school. His mother had written had written to remmeywho he is, reminded him to always study and not make bad friends. And also told him to not for sake the assembly of God's people.
But reading through that letter, one the caught my eyes.
She had written, "If you face any challenges or things get difficult, always call us and let us know."
I had to read that twice.
I read that when I was done with what I was helping him with on his phone, and when I was done reading, he was already busy laughing at something else. And I finally understood wheg he kept that letter alongside all those things he kept in his car boot.
He told me he has carried the letter with that purple face towel during his first trip away from home according to how his mother gave it to him. He had been proud to say it to my face that he was frightened. When ever things were going sideways, he would always remember the words of his mother and remember that someone somewhere had left a door open for him.
I asked why he is yet to frame the letter.
He shrugged. “It was not for decoration.”
I felt that short response he gave me.
Most times, we preserve something thing that are of importance to us just because we placed them somewhere beautiful, but in the real sense of it, some of things survive precisely just because we chose to make them ordinary. A folded letter placed in a purple envelope can carry more significant weight than if it is framed on the wall for everyone to be seeing because it always feels like something that can be reached for anytime.
Before we went out separate ways that Sunday afternoon, he gave me the later and told me to keep it safe. Without thinking twice or asking questions, I put it inside the bag I was carrying, in a compartment safe.
The strange thing is, most times he finds something like that and he allowed me to go through it, he always tells me to keep it safe, and I do likewise to, and somehow, it no longer felt old.
Thank you for reading.
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