• January 21st 2010
    My name is Lena. Lena Bowright. Today was my sixth birthday. You, in whom I write, are my present, from my Papa. He taught me how to read and write, along with many other lessons that will help me become a good person. I love my Mama and Papa more than anyone else in this world. I just wish that there were a way for me to repay them for everything they have done for me.
    There is always something about Papa that intrigues me. It inspires me to become more than what I am. He always tells me that if I work hard and study, then I just might be able to become as strong as him. There are certain things, however, that I can't figure out about him. Ever since I can remember, he has never let us watch television and has turned it off every time we sneak it on. Also, there was a time last year where Papa was acting stranger than usual. For example, he kept waking up in the middle of the night, not being able to get back to sleep. He also looked more ponderous than I have ever seen him. I have to admit. Last year was a very strange year. When Papa finally couldn't take it, he decided to leave. He told my brother and I that it was for relaxation. Mama was looking worried as she helped him with his things. She then wished him luck before he left. I knew that Papa was lying. But not in the bad way that hurts people. Lying as he did then was to protect us. Protect my brother and I from the truth of where he was actually going. I did not realize that until I saw a look in his eyes that I have never seen before. It was a mixture of determination and, for some strange reason – obsession. It was as if a fire was lit inside his mind and was driving him on. Maybe it told him he had something to accomplish that he left behind in his past. This is what I am guessing. I do not know the truth.
    After he left, he hadn't come back until ten months later. The night he came back, as he walked in through the doorway, big brother and I ran to the doorstep. He considered us for a minute, but with something like relief written all over his face. He then pulled us into his arms and was half-sobbing, half-laughing. I couldn't contain myself. I laughed along with him. I wonder what he was thinking the moment he stepped back into our house.
    Later that night, I could not sleep a minute. There was too much on my mind. I was asking myself where Papa went for ten months and why he was away for so long. I also wanted to know what drove him to leave. I then crept out of my bed and went downstairs to get a glass of water. On my way down, I saw a light on in Papa's study.
    I slowly walked over to the door and peaked in. I saw Papa sitting at his desk, staring at something in his hand. It had to be small, because I couldn't see what he was holding. Then, I ended up pushing against the door from straining to look, that it made a loud creak and startled Papa. He sighed with relief and gave me a serious look.
    "Lena, what are you doing out of bed?" he said.
    I had to be honest with him. I never want to lie in a bad way.
    "I couldn't sleep, so I wanted to go downstairs to get some water," I told him. "I just got distracted for a little bit."
    Papa then smiled at me and said, "Thank you for being honest, Lena."
    He then paused and whispered to me, "Can you keep a secret?"
    I was surprised at him. There was a sort of rebellious grin on his face when he asked that. I then nodded and said, "Yes, I can!"
    Papa beckoned me towards him and I ran over to sit on his lap, as I always did.
    The grin was still playing on Papa's face when he said, "Make sure that you keep this only between us. Not telling anyone makes secrets that much fun." I gave him a little giggle. Papa then opened his hand.
    I gasped out in wonder as I gazed at the small object in Papa's hand. It looked very much like an eraser, but it had some sort of unearthly glow about it. My thoughts went first to those glow-in-the-dark erasers that you bought at the dollar store. This one, however, was different. Its glow was pure white. It also had something drawn into it, as if it was a black, everlasting ink. It looked much like a heart surrounded by a crown of thorns, in front of a tall cross. I thought instantly of a crucifix. This symbol had something strange about it, almost as if it was pushing more life into me every second that I looked at it. I touch it. It was smooth, not even made of rubber. It intrigued me more than most things ever would. I looked at Papa. He was looking at the object with me. He had on that same expression that he wore earlier, when he came back onto our doorstep. Relief and maybe even – pity? I couldn't read it thoroughly. I ask him:
    "Papa, why do you continuously stare at this?"
    He glanced at me for a second, as if trying to look for the right answer. He then answered:
    "Because I have a feeling that amazing things could be done with this. Mistakes – could be fixed. Unplanned writing, sometimes even permanent – could be erased. Something is almost . . . magical about this eraser. It is as if it holds the secret of happiness . . . the secret of life." I looked at him, confused.
    "But Papa, you once told me that the secret of true happiness in life is being with the people you love." Papa stroked my hair softly. He then gave a smile that was almost sad.
    "Yes, I did say that. But understand this, Lena. A phrase like that may good when it is written on paper. In real life, it's not that simple. There are people in the world who have never experienced the love they needed to sustain them. I have met many of those types of people. Each one of them . . . they all looked as if they had nothing to live for, nothing to even die for. All I hope is that no one else that I know ends up that way, living a pointless life that they were never meant to live." Papa then sighed deeply.
    "Do you think you will be able to sleep now, Lena?" he asked me. I paused, but as I did, a loud yawn came out of my mouth. Papa chuckled, and said, "I'm guessing that's a yes."
    Papa picked me up after that and slowly carried me to my bed. He then muttered something about me getting to be too heavy for my rides to my bed. I giggle softly. His long, messy black hair was tickling my nose. It was as if I had my own pet just on top of my Papa's head. The idea was comical to me. He laid me down into the covers and tucked me in. My eyes could never move away from his dark, protuberant ones. Somehow, I knew that there was something about Papa that made him unique from every person on this Earth. Was it the way he talked with me? Maybe the way he held me. I wasn't too sure. All I knew was that there was a great aura around him that made him stand out from everyone else. Papa then bade me goodnight, kissed me on the forehead and turned off my lamp. He slowly walked to the doorway, silently closing it behind him. I was then surrounded by the velvety darkness of my room and slowly . . . peacefully, I finally drifted off to the sleep that I was yearning for that night.