"I Love You Sally"
by Emily Smyth
We were driving
as always.
Going through town after town,
flashing trees,
paved road smooth beneath the car’s tires,
houses and sidewalks blurred by our pace.
Everything was normal, average, ordinary.
As we rounded another corner
I saw the house
we always see on our way home.
But it was different this time.
I tilted my head, squinted my eyes,
wondering if I was imagining it.
As we came closer and closer
I saw it more clearly.
Cut-out letters
from creamy white printer paper
taped to the bay window facing the road.
Clean, crisp lines against the clear glass
made it easy to see from my view.
A smile spread slowly across my lips as I read the words,
I Love You Sally.
I didn’t know Sally.
I didn’t know who boldly proclaimed their love to her on this window.
Nevertheless, it made me smile.
We still drive by that house on our way home.
The paper has slowly wilted and peeled back; some letters have even fallen out of view.
I’ve concluded that these letters can’t possibly contain the love felt for Sally.
They were so heavy with love
they began to fall. They began to wilt.
Or, Sally saw this proclamation on her window and ran.
She was too scared to face her own feelings.
And she left someone with a heavy heart,
who left the letters on the window as a sign
that, no matter what,
he’d be waiting for her
when she came back.
So many things could’ve happened.
It’s impossible to tell what that sign once said long ago when we first drove by it.
But I know.
It’s like a sweet secret I hold on my tongue.
And I’m here to tell you, Sally,
someone out there loves you so.
