Six-year-old Ethan had recently lost his mother, leaving a deep void in his heart. In his grief, he started writing letters to her, pouring out his feelings on paper. One day, while wandering the streets, he stumbled upon an old, rusty mailbox at an abandoned house. He decided to slip one of his letters inside, never expecting anyone to see it. To his astonishment, the very next day, he found a mysterious reply waiting for him. Ethan, a six-year-old little boy with curly brown hair, felt a constant weight on his chest since his mother passed away. His father, Jacob, seemed lost in his world of grief.
Jacob used to be a lively and attentive father, but now he barely noticed Ethan, spending most of his time staring at old photos or working late to avoid the empty house. “Mom, I miss you so much,” Ethan whispered to his toy car. He often imagined his mother traveling with him in the little car. Today was another hard day without you. I miss you so much. Dad is really sad too. I don’t think he notices me much anymore. I wish you were here to hug me and tell me everything will be okay.
He poured his heart into those letters and hoped she would hear him .One day, while wandering around his neighborhood, Ethan stumbled upon an old, abandoned house. The paint was peeling, the windows were boarded up, and the garden was overgrown with weeds. “Hey, Mom,” Ethan said to his toy car, “look at this old house. It’s kind of spooky but also cool, right?” Ethan saw the rusty mailbox at the front gate. That day, he had brought one of his letters with him, tucked safely in his jeans pocket, intending to read it to his mom in a quiet spot. Ethan just slipped it inside the mailbox, thinking no one would ever see him.
He took a step back and looked at the house again. “Do you think anyone lives here?” he asked his car, imagining his mother’s voice answering. “Probably not, but it’s a good place for my letter.” Ethan stood there for a moment longer, feeling a bit silly but also comforted by the act. “Okay, let’s go home now,” he said to the car. “Maybe we’ll come back tomorrow.” As he walked home, his mind wandered to thoughts of his mother, picturing her reading his letter and smiling. When he reached his house, his dad was still sitting at the table in the living room. Ethan paused at the doorway, watching his father for a moment.
“Dad,” he said quietly, but Jacob didn’t respond. Sighing, Ethan headed to his room, pulling out another piece of paper to write another letter to his mom. As he wrote, he felt the sadness lifting just a little, finding solace in the connection created, even if it was only in his imagination. “Goodnight, Mom,” he whispered to the toy car on his bedside table before drifting off to sleep.