No One Writes To Tom

Many years ago I read a short story by Gabriel Garcia Marquez entitled "No One Writes for the Colonel." The story is very slow and moving and kind of sad, yet surprisingly optimistic. The Colonel, in the story, is an old man who lives off his pension. He can no longer really work at any jobs and he and his wife depend upon his pension check for his survival. However, the check doesn't arrive when it's supposed to and each day the Colonel returns from the mailbox empty handed.

Ever since I read that story, I've often said to myself, "No one writes to Tom" because it sure seems that way a lot. I was the guy in high school who when he graduated did his best to stay in contact with my various friends and acquaintances. It was harder back then than it is now because the Internet had just entered the popular conscience. I wrote letters, made phone calls, and sent messages via the new-fangled e-mail. But, no one wrote to Tom. I did the same thing when I graduated college and for the most part the results were similar. I've only gotten two care packages in my entire life (both from my friend Kandi). As the confusion mounts, I find myself struggling with lonliness and for whatever reason it seems that yet once again, no one writes to Tom.