In Letters Home, Christina Allgood, age 99 years, shares the story of her life and the lessons she has learned as she writes to her twin sister, Katrina.
July 15, 1999
Katrina,
Mother had been promised to another man, a man she had never met, when she met Father at the tender age of seventeen. Mother never told us this story, feeling that it was improper to share such information with her children, but Father told us because he thought it was a wonderful love story.
Katrina, do you remember?
Mother’s parents had arranged for Mother to marry a man from Europe, a wealthy, older man who, in partnership with Grandfather, had made his fortune in diamonds and jewels. Grandfather thought it would be a good match, and he thought that this man would surely be able to support a wife so that she could live in the manner to which our Mother was accustomed. Besides, with a business partner for a son-in-law, business was certain to continue to thrive and Grandfather would be able to keep a watchful eye on how Mother was living. And, Mother went along because it was the proper thing to do.
Mother was quite the proper lady but was educated in her own right, knowing a great many things about art and history and world events. Mother was quite capable of enjoying an engaging conversation about politics and international affairs, but also knew of more feminine topics such as sewing and meal planning. Mother knew how to think for herself, but felt obliged to follow certain expected practices of the affluent and of the female gender. Still, when she had set her mind to something, she could be quite determined to see it through to completion and success.
It was in the late summer when Mother met Father. A showing of a new artist was being held at a museum in the city, and Mother and Father had both attended separately. Father was a few years older than Mother, but it didn’t seem to matter as they began chatting, while looking at a painting, about color and light and the mood of the work. Father always said that he was quite taken with her beauty and her intellect quite immediately. Father said that when you meet the right person your heart will let you know that you’ve found the one, and you simply have to ignore the shaky knees that may accompany.
Over the next few months, Mother and Father would meet and speak of art and politics and dreams as they would picnic or take walks through the countryside. And, according to Father, they fell in love, sharing their first kiss in the falling snow on New Year’s Day as they watched a parade pass through town. Mother always said that it was on that day that Father presented her with a golden necklace containing a heart pendant, a necklace she always said she treasured though I do not recall ever having seen it.
Father explained that he and Mother were not certain what to do about her having been promised to the European, but Mother and Father knew they wished to marry. Grandfather Smith, Mother’s father, was not pleased about possible changes in arrangements. Nor was Grandfather pleased with Mother marrying a common man, a military man, someone without great means, someone who had grown up on a farm, the son of someone connected to that silly railroad idea. In an effort to disband the couple, Grandfather Smith explained that, if Mother were to marry Father, Grandfather would disinherit her and she would take with her no money into the marriage and have no money from him at his death. It did not deter the lovebirds, and their wishes to marry remained strong. Over time, Grandfather Smith changed his mind and blessed the union, unable to deny the light within Mother and Father’s eyes when they looked at each other.
But, Grandfather Smith didn’t know everything about Father, about Father’s determination or means. Father was an educated and hard worker, showing promise of rising quickly through the ranks of the military. What little money Father had earned himself he used to purchase land and farm it, growing his business acre by acre, taking financial risks when necessary but never being reckless with the future. And, when a large track of mountain land formally owned by the State, a track bordering Father’s own few acres, was sold cheaply, Father purchased it, and then watched the value rise as he farmed the land. And, it was on that land that he built The Oak for Mother.
Granddaddy Allgood, Father’s father, who, later in life, had made quite the wealth in the railroad industry, assisted Father will designing The Oak. It was a process that began, according to Father, on the day that he first kissed Mother, the day he knew for certain that he would marry her. Together, Father and Granddaddy sketched the plans and, when it was time, Father took the plans to Mother.
It was in the springtime when Father took Mother to the land where The Oak was to be built, formally proposing and she formally accepting. A diamond ring he then presented to her, and, Mother said, Father blessed it with a kiss. It was there, as they walked about the fields that Father showed Mother the plans for The Oak. According to Father, Mother even put her own touches on the plans so that the house became a part of both of them.
As soon as the ground was readied, Father began accumulating the wood from the oak trees about the property, preparing to build The Oak. Mother often accompanied Father, the two of them working together to make certain The Oak was strong and their dream realized. And, little by little, piece by piece, The Oak came into existence, a home built by two hearts with hope as its center piece, its cornerstone.
By the fall, The Oak was nearing completion and Granddaddy Allgood had grown ill, his fortune upon his death being left to his only child, our Father. And, our Grandfather on Mother’s side of the family began to rest more easily at night.
Invitations were mailed to all of the appropriate families announcing the date of the wedding of Abigail Smith to Kevin Allgood, invitations of white with gold, fancy lettering. It was on New Year’s Day, the anniversary of their first kiss, when Mother and Father were married here in the grand entranceway at The Oak. A day for new beginnings, Mother said, always beaming as she told us of her wedding day.
Mother explained in detail her long gown of white, covered in lace, with long sleeves and a tight bodice, that she wore on her special day, adding that she felt that her heart would pound out of her chest when she first saw Father standing there in his black tails and top hat. Mother told of the veil that trained behind her, the pendant that she wore about her heart, her bouquet of white roses ordered especially for the wedding, and the blue handkerchief that she held in her hand. The dress was new, Mother said, and the handkerchief was a piece that had been used in Grandmother Smith’s wedding, a piece that had also been borrowed from her own mother. Mother admitted to being nervous, but stated that it was a wonderful kind of nervous like when you ride in a hot air balloon for the first time, knees shaking but thrilled at the same time.
The guests sat in chairs facing the front oak doors, doors that stood tall and grand with a gentle strength that seemed to bless this union as rays from the sun entered in through the windows to applaud the ceremony. Father and the preacher stood on the steps just inside the front doors, and, with shaky knees, Father waited for Mother to arrive.
Then, suddenly, a ten-piece band situated at the back of the room began to play that old familiar song and, then, there at the top of the grand staircase was Mother, dressed like an angel in white, gracefully taking each step to the bottom of the stairs until taking Grandfather’s hand and making her way to Father.
The couple honeymooned here, at The Oak, the home that they dreamed of and planned and built together. Betsy, who had been with Mother since her younger days, came to live at The Oak, becoming a part of its beauty, its peaceful presence. And, on Mother and Father’s first wedding anniversary, their gifts to each other were the births of two children, two sisters to be dressed as one, who would receive the gift of living at The Oak.
Forever,
Christina
This work is fictional. Any resemblance to actual situations or persons, living or dead, is coincidental and unintentional.
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