Oh Nicky boy

On Monday we received a package. It was from my uncle - a late Christmas present - and something else. Never in the history of mail has any one package held two such diverse objects.


One was a gift neatly wrapped in paper so pretty that I folded and kept it. The other was a plain white document envelope, with handwriting on the front. We'll come back to that.


The gift was a game called Partini. Think of it as the universal party game. It has charades, guess what I'm sculpting, guess what song I'm humming, describe something using only negative phrasing - basically every party game ever, all rolled into one.


We immediately called as many people as we could reach. A party game is like a challenge asking, How many people can you get to come over and play with you?


We got 5 (plus Grant and I), though one fell asleep on the couch before we actually got around to playing. It was a great time. There was music, laughter and some shenanigans involving a slinky. I'll tell you about it later if you're interested.


But before all that, there was the envelope.

It was a security envelope, the kind with the blue hatch marks on the inside, so I couldn't see what was in it. But I already knew.


I studied the front - delaying having to open it.


It said, "Contents to be placed somewhere of your choosing preferably where it will not be disturbed." In parentheses it said "Take Pictures" and someone had thoughtfully inserted the words "of envelope" between contents and to.


I opened the drawer near my right hip and pulled out a kitchen knife to slit the envelope. Grant watched and said nothing as a pulled out a tiny piece of cloth. It was simpler than I expected, just a two by two inch fragment of white tee-shirt with a bit of the hem still attached along the left hand side.


I rubbed my thumb over the black-marker letters. "Nicholas Wayne Fernandes" I read, "1990-2008"


My youngest cousin had always wanted to travel. Now this little piece of his shirt would have to do it for him. The postal service got it all the way from the East Coast of the United States to Yokosuka, Japan. It's my job to carry it the rest of the way.


Where will I bring it?

I don't know.


Maybe I'll just carry it around for awhile, until I find the perfect spot - someplace green with a view of the sky.