My sweetheart and I went to a storage locker auction on Saturday. We won a few lockers and found a few treasures here and there: a pair of slatted metal garden chairs, a late 19th century adding machine, about $300 in extension cords, a pallet jack, and some other odds and ends. In one locker we uncovered a treasure trove of cards and letters between “Ismael” and “Lilian.” After perusing these papers at length, the threads of a story began to be woven together. Lilian had remained behind in Honduras and Ismael was here in Texas. He was here working legally, and was sending money back home, as was attested to by the many Western Union receipts we found. They sent one another missives on every holiday and many days in between, smattered with “corazon” and “amor” and “esposa” and “siempre”. Some of the letters were as steamy as a novela. Others were tender or even yearning. Here’s one example…
A very rough Google translation is:
“From you I learned that there are new and better emotions. From you I learned to know a world of illusions. From you I learned that more than seven days muyires [sic] to be counted joys and to be happy with you what I learned. From you I learned to see the light side of the moon. I learned that you do not change yourself because any can learn a kiss is sweeter and deeper than I can irnie [sic] this world tomorrow. The good things I lived with you and learned that I was born the day I met.”
Despite my crappy translation, this seems so pure, so eternal, so romantic.
Unfortunately, we also found among these papers a divorce decree. Dangit! If there’s no hope for Ismael and Lilian, what hope is there for the rest of us!?