Missed Opportunity
by
Nathanael Smith

"Look at this," Isaac shouted as he parked his bike, "You got another one!"

He ran in waving a piece of mail, acting like it was a million dollars, "You must be good. This is the third time you got this letter!" Isaac was Nathanael's little brother, and he had the job of getting the mail half a mile from the house.

Nathanael looked at the letter. These people are persistent, he thought. I wonder what they'll say now. Slowly he opened the oversize envelope. Then carefully pulled out a pamphlet on organizing time. And a sheet of paper informing how to get published. Then a sheet of typed paper. Then a small test. I wonder how much more they can fit in this, he wondered. He set them all down in a neat little pile on the table, then walked outside. He sat down on a slate blue folding chair.

"What I should write about?" Nathanael asked his beagle as it slowly plodded up and sat next to him, begging to be petted. Nathanael mechanically began to scratch the dog's furry head. A little blue station wagon turned onto the gravel road that lead to the house. That would be his mother. She had gone to the neighbors to help with housework. After parking the car, she got out and began unloading.

"Nathanael, run and get your brothers. I need help carrying in all this stuff." Nathanael quickly walked off to find the requested help. In five minutes he was back, siblings in tow. The table was already piled with boxes and bags. "Kimberly let me take this stuff for a yard sale," she explained.

With the help of the boys, the car was soon emptied and the kitchen and living room were full of odds and ends. Nathanael left through the back door and was soon at a friend's house. It was nearly dinner time when he left and ambled back home. He stopped at the door to wipe his feet, leaving smudges of red mud on the mat.

Food was on the table when Nathanael walked into the room, and soon they were all sitting down to fried chicken and mashed potatoes. After dinner was done and cleaned up, Nathanael went to his room and sat down at his desk, pulled out a pencil and began doodling on his homework.

He pulled out an English sheet and jumped up, ran out of his room, down the hall, and into the kitchen where Mom was sorting a large box of knickknacks, an old clock, and a handful of old books. Nathanael looked at the corner of the table, then, almost panicking, he asked where the envelope had gone. His mother affirmed what he had suspected-- that she had trashed the paper on the table. Nathanael despaired momentarily, then, realizing that it was his own fault, he trudged back to his room. So much for the Institute of Children's Literature and the bright future of being a great writer...