The Package

My car pulled onto campus for the first time. I was "home" for the next several years.

The long drive across Michigan, having gotten a late start, got me to campus at a fairly late hour. It took a couple of attempts but I finally elbowed my car door open and took my keys with me. My luggage could wait for a moment as I determined which apartment key would actually work the best.

Finally, the door to the apartment turned over and I could enter the darkened kitchen area. I didn't see any evidence of my suitemates around yet, so I clicked on a kitchen light to survey the spacious area.

It was the first time that I noticed a brown paper package sitting on the kitchen table. Evidently, someone had moved into the apartment before me and left some mail behind. Nevertheless, the package seemed to draw me close to it; close enough to inspect the label on it.

Kenneth Daniel Myles

Apt 242.

Laker Lane

A---------, MI.

49401

I had to read the addressee line a couple of times. It was indeed to me; and it had come from someone who knew my full name. I experimentally picked up the meticulously wrapped brown package and read the return portion of the address.

A Devoted Friend

followed by a local return address.

My luggage could continue to wait as I hastened upstairs with the package. It turned out that each bedroom seemed unoccupied and unpicked, which boggled the mind even further how the package had gotten here. I chose a bedroom and left the package on the desk in the corner.

I had every intention of letting the unknown piece of mail sit in its new place as I emptied my car of my campus luggage. My plan to busy myself with emptying my car had lasted long enough to bring up my TV/VCR combo and my bedding. My laptop, clothing, groceries, and accessories would have to wait. That box seemed to call to me...

I settled onto my made-up bed and peeled curiously at the wrapping paper. A large photo album fell out, along with a letter. I was torn by what this could be and I cracked open the photo album first.

Its pages were mostly sparse, save for a few baby pictures and a birth announcement in the first several pages of the large book. The birth certificate was mine. Perplexed by this development, I unfolded the letter in my hand. It was actually handwritten rather than typed. I laid back on my pillow with the photo album at my side and unfolded the note as my curiosity was piqued...

Kenneth, my son...

I started feeling more irritated than before. Brad had honestly written to me and sent off a package before I had even arrived at campus? I knew that my mother was enjoying her five year romance but, while I respected Brad and loved what he did for my mother, he could be kind of obnoxious sometimes. Besides, if he was going to start calling me "son," it was time for him to make it official and actually propose to mom already! I decided to humor him and keep reading...

...we have lost contact for too many years now! How is it that you are eighteen and starting college at my alma mater (GO, LAKERS!)? Have I truly allowed sixteen precious years to slip away from us?

I have much time to make up for. Your mother, rather begrudgingly on her part, told me where you would attend university. I would very much like to pick up contact with you once again.

I have not seen you since the age of two and our lives have, obviously, changed so much. Did you play sports in school? Do you have a lady friend in your life? What will you be studying at school?

It was against your mother's better judgment to tell me how to contact you now. I do not fully blame her for what happened between her and I.

I would very much like to see you again and reconnect. Enclosed find a photo album. I would very much like you to enclose a few photographs of your own from through the years. I need to watch my son grow up; I missed that chance once.

I will wait as patiently as I can for a reply.

Your doting father,

Daniel Myles.

(Mailing Address)

(Phone Number)

(Email Address)

My irritation with Brad Forrester had been clearly misplaced before. Today, I heard from a Daniel Myles; a man who I couldn't possibly remember anymore. Furthermore, he and mom had talked about this possibility of reconnecting. Based on a lifetime of hearing her speak of Daniel Myles, it was a surprise to me that she would ever contact this man again, let alone offer him permission to contact me.

Besides, who was he to reach out to me now? Wouldn't graduation have been close enough? I was preparing to pursue my studies and chase coeds (no, I had never acquired a "lady friend" to share my life with and that was going to be a huge pursuit on campus). I didn't need the extra drama of split family dynamics right now.

However, I was now curious and couldn't just leave my father hanging altogether. Contacting him at all was as quick as firing up the computer and sending him a quick email. I could do that now while I was the only person in the apartment. I set the photo album and letter on the desk again and turned on the laptop...