Quite

"I just can't wait to see you in a few months. There's so much to catch up on. I'm bubbling with excitement, waiting to hear about your friends, your school life, what you've been up to lately. And remember, I want to hear it all and not miss a single little thing. What am I saying? I can't wait until you write back. Then you can tell me anything you want because you can always tell Mommy whatever it is that you want, good or bad, and I will always love you. But it won't be the same than to see you in person and hug you, and smother you with all the kisses that you deserve since the last time I visited.

"I hope you have a Merry Christmas if you get this letter in time, because Christmas is a very special time of year. Remember that long talk we had about the how special Christmas was? Still, I hope that you get everything you want this year, and even everything that you didn't ask for, but that you deserve more than anything in the world. I can't wait to hear from you and even to see you, but I promise that I'll be there next Christmas, no matter what it takes. I'll love you always, Mommy," I read at the bottom of the letter. Rachael giggled at the hearts and little kisses that Carla drew for her at the bottom of the page.

"P.S.," Rachael said quietly. "Tell your Daddy that I hope he's well and has a Merry Christmas, too."

And with that, she folded up the letter, and placed it back into the envelope from which it came from and turned around on my lap.

"Mommy says Merry Christmas, Daddy," she said. And with that, she wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me. I hugged her back and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Why don't you go write to Mommy," I suggested as we let go of each other. "Tomorrow's Christmas and you're not going to have much time tomorrow or the days after with all the gifts you're getting this year."

"O.K. Daddy," she said, smiling and bounded from my lap, Carla's letter still in hand. She looked back at me and when I smiled back at her, she turned around and skipped happily up the stairs and to her room, not reemerging again for several hours when her completed letter was finished.

I remember Carla telling me that her dream in life was to explore the world, to see what the world had to offer, what it had for her to experience. Maybe it was a bit unattainable, but nevertheless, it was a dream and whenever Carla set a goal, she was determined to accomplish it, no matter what it took to achieve it. Unfortunately for me, she could not achieve such a goal while with a man like myself. I guess I knew that it was coming, somewhere deep in my heart, where a sub-conscious was telling me that Carla deserved better. She deserves not to have anything hinder her way towards her dreams. I knew that I could not afford the things she deserved, nor provide the thing for such an objective to be met.

With the many things I remember about Carla, that doomed night of ours seems vague in my memory. I remember that she told me that it wasn't that she was unhappy, but that she had found some one better. Yes, better was the word she used. And sure, in most ways, the single, highly popular (and not to mention rich) president of the company she worked for was better than a man like myself. Things moved quickly after that night. The divorce, the plans, the moving out, the sad, although promisingly temporarily, good-byes between mother and five year old daughter, and then the sudden emptiness.

I had no doubt in my mind that she was happy, and truly so. What greater feeling is there than finally being with the person one was destined to be with for life? There is none to that sensation of knowing that the other is a part of your life, knowing that person will do anything and everything for the other's happiness. That there is the purest love.

Carla was my purest love. She was the only person for me. And I would go through the rest of my days knowing that. And if to make her happy meant letting her go, then I would do it, because to keep her from a once in a lifetime opportunity would truly be the sin to end it all. Perhaps the only thing that went wrong was the separation of mother and daughter, but a child needs some stability in life and I guess that is where I come in, even if it is the only thing worth living for. But something tells me that a child still needs her mother and at least Carla is doing her best with all the letters, news, gifts, visits every couple of months, and the love that they still share. So maybe it isn't that bad after all, but only time can tell.

My instinct told me that Carla deserved more than myself, and wished that I could be wrong on that, but my instinct says otherwise. Her new husband and lover is her purest love. I don't doubt that. They looked so happy at the wedding that I showed up for the sake of Rachael. She didn't have to explain much to me about her decision, and she knew it. Her eyes told it all. They told to reason, the desires, the needs, and sorrow. In all her letters to Rachael, all addressed to Rachael, she would always throw in the "tell your Daddy I hope that he's well," part, still wring to Rachael as if I was not part of her life, to which I would have to reluctantly concur. No, I don't think she hated me, nor despised me in anyway. I tell myself the worse: that she's moved on, but something in my hearts tells me that she doesn't want to hurt me anymore.

They say that there is only one other person one is destined to be with. Carla was that person for me, but alas, I was not the person for her. It is not always a two way street, as fate so ironically plays out. Another was the one for her and she was the one for him. But does that mean she was not the one for me? Maybe there are no sure things, no definite answer to anything in life. People can say what they want about Carla and my response will always be the same: she was the most beautiful and perfect woman I ever knew. She did nothing wrong, despite comments from friends that I don't need her, that I can't find someone better. But there is none better. I did need and I still do need her. But we can't all get what we want, can we?

Tonight, I would help Rachael address the envelope to Carla. She will then stuff the letter in, telling me that I can read it if I wanted, but I didn't want to. There was no right to intrude. If Carla wanted only to write to Rachael to protect me from any pain, then let Rachael write back for the same reason. Then I would tuck her into bed and she would, like she always does, ask me to tell her about the place where Mommy is and what it is like there. And she would drift off to sleep as I told her about all the fun Mommy has while traveling, and how much she still loves her, and just how happy Mommy is.

Tomorrow will be Christmas and in the early morning, Rachael will bound into my bedroom and on my bed, bouncing up and down, shouting for me to wake up. It will indeed be the first Christmas that I'll have without Carla by my side in a long time. With or without Carla there, Rachael will sure to be excited about her gifts and the big celebrations planned for the day because in the little naïve mind, she can't feel any misery, knowing that her mother will always be there for her.

Carla believed that Christmas was a special time. People can put their differences aside and enjoy such a holiday together. Things don't happen for nothing on Christmas. Miracles are very real and very special. We were destined to meet, she would still say, even today. Maybe I was nothing more than a path leading to her true happiness, abiding her time until her golden moment came. Maybe such a child like Rachael is something for me to remember Carla by, link between her and me, even if we shall never meet again.

But its getting late and as I get up from the old rocking chair to prepare dinner, I smile to myself, knowing that there still is one little woman that still needs my love and care. I decide not to put out the fire; I think we both would need a bit of warmth in our lives when we sit down to dinner in a few hours. I also decide not to close to blinds or pull down the shades either. The snow's actually quite pretty now, nearing a halt from its virginal artwork of the white-blanketed city. Through the whiteness of the snow and the dimness of the evening, tiny Christmas lights twinkling from the homes in the neighborhood. Yes, the snow is pretty. Quite.