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sans
1-0-2 End of Main Line
Snowdin, Underground
TO: Whoever receives this
44 Trash Alley
(In the Dumps)
Waterfalls, Underground
Hello, how have you been?
I almost didn't write tonight. Not for any particular reasons, no — I have kept putting it off for weeks, maybe because if I sat down and started writing, the days would pass by without me realizing. I wouldn't be able to stop, now that I have someone to talk to. Don't tell my brother that; he's an excellent listener, but there are just some topics that don't need to be broached with him, like house finance and work.
Speaking of work, mine has been a couple of ordinary days. It's the same as usual: too many tasks, too little time to complete them all. I keep telling myself that I'll be on top of things eventually, but turns out "eventually" is a long stretch ahead. Maybe it's not that dissimilar to the sentry work I used to do. Maybe it's the same for all jobs that they're boring and tedious to a fault, but ultimately necessary to put food on the table.
In the meantime, I'm doing the best as I can. I tried cooking something a few nights ago. Bitter lemons and fried eggs. Papyrus said he liked it, but I don't know if I can trust his culinary expertise, courtesy of who his teacher is. He's cool, don't get me wrong, but cool people have blind spots sometimes; and my brother, awesome as he is, still needs to hone his skills in the kitchen. Nevertheless, he complimented me on doing the cooking for once, which I suppose was nice of him. He's eager to give praise like that, even for innocuous things that warrant none of the profuse enthusiasm. But little white lies never hurt anyone, do they?
The weather has been indecisive lately. It rained for a while, then stopped as if changing its mind. The ground is still wet however, especially with the brutal snowfall. Yet, the ice won't melt even in such damp conditions. I think I like that. The idea that something lingers and stays true to itself, even after the rain came to wash it away.
Such unfavorable weather has hindered my ventures in the last few days. There's not much to do in the house, so I went up into the attic earlier today.
There was a box up there I don't remember having seen before. Maybe it had always been there, but I had never noticed. There wasn't much inside. A few old papers, nothing I could recognize unfortunately. A few photographs of people I don't remember meeting ever. And then, there was the veil.
I don't know why that's the thing that stuck with me.
It's nothing special, probably made of white silk. At first, I thought it must be a wedding veil, but it's not quite right for that. Funeral perhaps? It's too decorative to be anything but ceremonial.
Maybe it belonged to my mother. Regretfully, I don't know much about her but for a few memories I have as a young child. A matriarch and the granddaughter of two war veterans, she didn't talk much about growing up amidst the post-war restoration struggles. However, I remember her mentioning leaving her parents' home to find a new one in this desolate, faraway town on the edge of the kingdom. Her temper ran short. She would have no patience for "little men with littler ears". I didn't know how my father managed to wed her, but they were together for most of their lives, even after the end.
She didn't strike me as the type to don headscarves, although I am sure she would look lovely in them. People tell me I have her face — how blessed of her to bear a child to carry on her legacy. Or perhaps not; I don't presume I am the person she would have loved to see growing up, but it is by no fault of her own.
Still, it is nice to believe that such a beautiful garment belonged to my mother, isn't it, even if it might be just a fabrication? Heirlooms are hard to come by. Papyrus would love to know more about our family. We are the last of our kind, after all. It is reassuring to find a root, a reason, for our existence and continue it by all means necessary.
The veil is downstairs now, folded on the couch in the living room. Maybe one day I will try it on to see if it fits me. Or maybe I'll just leave it there. I haven't decided yet.
Regardless, this is all I want to say for now. It's getting late. I want to say more but I don't want to burden you with the inclemency of my thoughts. I hope you've been doing well, or the equivalent of such for you.
I'll write again soon.
Thank you for always listening,
sans
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