Fwd: [Buoro's World] As I walked home one

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Abubakar Buoro Idris <notification+kr4m4yqx2rra@facebookmail.com>
Date: Wed, 22 Aug 2012 23:07:32 -0700
Subject: [Buoro's World] As I walked home one
To: Buoro's World <buorosworld@groups.facebook.com>

Abubakar Buoro Idris posted in Buoro's World

As I walked home one
freezing day, I stumbled
on a wallet someone had
lost in the street. I picked
it up and looked inside to
find some identification so
I could call the owner. But
the wallet contained only
three dollars and a
crumpled letter that
looked as if it had been in there for years.
The envelope was worn
and the only thing that
was legible on it was the
return address. I started
to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then
I saw the dateline--1924.
The letter had been
written almost sixty
years ago.
It was written in a beautiful feminine
handwriting on powder
blue
stationery with a little
flower in the left-hand
corner. It was a "Dear John"
letter that told the
recipient, whose name
appeared to be Michael,
that the
writer could not see him any more because her
mother forbade it. Even
so, she
wrote that she would
always love him.
It was signed, Hannah. It was a beautiful letter,
but there was no way
except for the name
Michael, that the owner
could be identified. Maybe
if I called information,the operator could find a
phone listing for the
address on the envelope.
"Operator," I began, "this
is an unusual request. I'm
trying to find the owner of a wallet that I found.
Is there anyway you can
tell me if there is a phone
number for an address
that was on an envelope
in the wallet?" She suggested I speak
with her supervisor, who
hesitated for a moment
then said, "Well, there is
a phone listing at that
address, but I can't give you the number." She
said, as a courtesy, she
would call that number,
explain my story and
would ask them if they
wanted her to connect me. I waited a few
minutes and then she
was back on the line. "I
have a party who will
speak with you."
I asked the woman on the other end of the line
if she knew anyone by
the
name of Hannah. She
gasped, "Oh! We bought
this house from a family who had a daughter
named Hannah. But that
was 30 years ago!"
"Would you know where
that family could be
located now?" I asked. "I remember that Hannah
had to place her mother
in a nursing home some
years ago," the woman
said. "Maybe if you got in
touch with them they might be able to track
down the daughter."
She gave me the name
of the nursing home and
I called the number. They
told me the old lady had passed away some
years ago but they did
have a phone number for
where they thought the
daughter might be living.
I thanked them and phoned. The woman who
answered explained that
Hannah herself was now
living in a nursing home.
This whole thing was
stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I
making such a
big deal over finding the
owner of a wallet that
had only three dollars and
a letter that was almost 60 years old?
Nevertheless, I called the
nursing home in which
Hannah was supposed to
be living and the man
who answered the phone told me, "Yes, Hannah is
staying with us. "
Even though it was
already 10 p.m., I asked if
I could come by to see
her. "Well," he said
hesitatingly, "if you want
to take a chance, she
might be in
the day room watching
television." I thanked him and drove
over to the nursing home.
The night nurse and a
guard greeted me at the
door. We went up to the
third floor of the large building. In the day room,
the nurse introduced me
to Hannah.
She was a sweet, silver-
haired old timer with a
warm smile and a twinkle in her eye.
I told her about finding
the wallet and showed
her the letter. The
secondshe saw the
powder blue envelope with that little flower on
the left, she tooka deep
breath and said, "Young
man, this letter was the
last contact I ever
had with Michael." She looked away for a
moment deep in thought
and then said Softly, "I
loved him very much. But
I was only 16 at the time
and my mother felt I was too young. Oh, he
was so handsome. He
looked like Sean Connery,
the actor."
"Yes," she continued.
"Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person. If
youshould find him, tell
him I think of him often.
And," she hesitated for
amoment, almost biting
her lip, "tell him I still love him. You know," she said
smiling as tears began to
well up in her eyes, "I
never did marry. I guess
no one ever matched up
to Michael..." I thanked Hannah and
said goodbye. I took the
elevator to the first floor
and as I stood by the
door, the guard there
asked, "Was the old lady able to help you?"
I told him she had given
me a lead. "At least I
have a last name. But I
think I'll let it go for a
while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find
the owner of this wallet."
I had taken out the
wallet, which was a
simple brown leather
case with red lacing on the side. When the guard
saw it, he said, "Hey,
wait a minute! That's Mr.
Goldstein's wallet. I'd
know it anywhere with
that bright red lacing. He's always losing that
wallet. I must have
found it in the halls at
least three times."
"Who's Mr. Goldstein?" I
asked as my hand began to shake.
"He's one of the old
timers on the 8th floor.
That's Mike Goldstein's
wallet for sure. He must
have lost it on one of his walks."
I thanked the guard and
quickly ran back to the
nurse's office. I told her
what the guard had said.
We went back to the elevator and got on. I
prayed that Mr. Goldstein
would be up.
On the eighth floor, the
floor nurse said, "I think
he's still in the day room. He likes to read at
night. He's a darling old
man."
We went to the only
room that had any lights
on and there was a man reading a book. The nurse
went over to him and
asked if he had lost his
wallet. Mr. Goldstein
looked up with surprise,
put his hand in his back pocket and said, "Oh, it is
missing!"
"This kind gentleman
found a wallet and we
wondered if it could be
yours?" I handed Mr. Goldstein the
wallet and the second he
saw it, he smiled with
relief and said, "Yes,
that's it! It must have
dropped out of my pocket this
afternoon. I want to give
you a reward."
"No, thank you," I said.
"But I have to tell you
something. I read the letter in the hope of
finding out who owned
the wallet."
The smile on his face
suddenly disappeared.
"You read that letter?" "Not only did I read it, I
think I know where
Hannah is."
He suddenly grew pale.
"Hannah? You know
where she is? How is she? Is she still as pretty
as she was? Please,
please tell me," he
begged.
"She's fine...just as pretty
as when you knew her." I said softly.
The old man smiled with
anticipation and asked,
"Could you tell me where
she is? I want to call her
tomorrow." He grabbed my hand and said, "You
know something, mister,
I was so in love with
that girl that when that
letter came, my life
literally ended. I never married. I guess I've
always loved her. "
"Mr. Goldstein," I said,
"Come with me."
We took the elevator
down to the third floor. The hallways were
darkened and only one or
two little night-lights lit
our way to the day room
where Hannah was
sitting alone watching the television. The nurse
walked over to her.
"Hannah," she said softly,
pointing to Michael, who
was waiting with me in
the doorway. "Do you know this man?"
She adjusted her glasses,
looked for a moment, but
didn't say a word.
Michael said softly,
almost in a whisper, "Hannah, it's Michael. Do
you remember me?"
She gasped, "Michael! I
don't believe it! Michael!
It's you! My Michael!"
He walked slowly towards her and they
embraced. The nurse and
I left with
tears streaming down
our faces.
"See," I said. "See how the Good Lord works! If
it's meant to be, it will
be."
About three weeks later
I got a call at my office
from the nursing home. "Can you break away on
Sunday to attend a
wedding? Michael and
Hannah are going to tie
the knot!"
It was a beautiful wedding with all the
people at the nursing
home dressed up to join
in the celebration. Hannah
wore a light beige dress
and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue
suit and stood tall. They
made me their best man.
The hospital gave them
their own room and if
you ever wanted to see a 76-year-old bride and a
79-year-old groom acting
like two teenagers, you
had
to see this couple.
A perfect ending for a love affair that had
lasted nearly 60 years

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