Dear Sister…

Dear Sister,

            I’m writing to say I am sorry for not calling you on your birthday.  I was at the gym until 8:30pm again, but that’s never an excuse.  You come first.  You always have.  I’m writing to say I am sorry for writing a text saying I will call you later, and then I never do.  In the morning, I see the pink heart you text me back and remember someone telling me once a text with no words is never good.  So, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry, sister for not calling you on your birthday.   I know in a year it won’t matter and we won’t remember, but today it is on my mind.  I wish you could hear my voice on your birthday say Happy Birthday.  Because sometimes that is the best gift;  a familiar voice. 

Dear Sister,

            I know what I want to get you for your birthday this year, but I’m having trouble getting it on the plane.  Should I tell you about it anyway?  My neighbor made it and it looks like something that would hang well in your house.  When I saw it, it had your feet walking all over it. 

Dear Sister,

             Sometimes I get scared that I’m not going to be a writer.  That I’ll never go back to school.  That I’ll never find the time one day to sit down and start applying, start researching, start looking for that school of my dreams.  Maybe I’ve lost that student in me?  Maybe she can’t come back.  Maybe she doesn’t want to?  I subscribed to The Sun again and there longs in me a desire to have my words printed across the pages, so I think the writer is still there.  Somewhere.  Sometimes she just doesn’t want to come out.  Writing this is helping me realize I really do love to write.  I keep drawing angel or love cards indicating that I have a decision to make.  I think the decision is if I am going to take my writing seriously.  I think this year I will, but didn’t I say that last year too.  Help me stay accountable, sister.  Maybe we should write that book we’ve always talked about? 

Dear Sister,

            How do you get up so early? Every week it is something I want to get better at, and every week I continue to wake up at the same time.  I don’t quite know how you do it! Teach me your ways and tricks of the trade. 

Dear Sister,

            When did you decide you wanted to get married?  I don’t know if I ever will, though I have been thinking about it, so I guess that’s a good sign.  But honest to God, I can’t picture the end of my life with anyone else but you.  I see you and I see me.  That’s it.  One day I would like to live with you.  One day we will grow into old ladies in a little green house on a hill.  We will read poems by Mary Oliver and plant seeds from our Grandmother’s garden.  We will write by the fire and make jam in mason jars like our mother used too.  We will laugh and we will cry.  We will look through the photo albums of our youth and smile.  Didn’t I write once, we will die on the same day?  That’s only because I know we will. 

Dear Sister,

            I erased the word Independence you wrote on my wall with chalk last year.  I feel guilty.  Every time I see that word, I think of you and the little town we drove through named Independence.  Although it is erased, I feel more liberated this year than I ever thought I could be last year.  You engraved its meaning in me.  You let it take over my soul. 

Dear Sister,

            Sometimes I want to run away with you.  Or I want to rent a car and just drive.  Buy a ticket and just fly.  Somewhere.  Anywhere.  I want to dream away with you. Go back to that summer in Keene Valley, when we frolicked along the river and took pictures in black and white. When we hiked all day and drank red wine in clear glasses and swung on the same set of swings after our dinners out.  I want to go back to that time don’t you?  I want to go back to the days where I still had mountains left to climb.  To living only 2 hours away from you.  To walking to the end of your driveway at Osgood Pond and hitch hiking back to college.  I want to go back to the days when it all started.  To the tracks, to the windows of your car rolled down, to singing loud, to waiting in line for peanut butter ice cream sundaes, to Pirates of the Caribbean, to scratches up and down our arms from the raspberry bushes.  I want to go back to summer. 

Dear Sister,

Sometimes I wonder if this is all worth it? The distance.  The only seeing you a few times a year.   If I love you so much, why don’t I live closer?  If you can give my life such a great spark and flair, why aren’t I surrounding my life with you?   It’s something I think about from time to time.  It’s something that keeps me up at night and makes me sleep longer in the morning. 

Dear Sister,

            I really like it here.  I like having options.  I like being close to the city and I like not being far from farm land and the lakes that surround me.  I like having neighbors and I like not driving far for pizza.  I love my job and I love my house and the little family I have made here.  I love the community I have grown into over the course of one year.  Sometimes I feel bad that I am far from my roots or that I am growing out of them.  I feel bad that I am the last to know things and that if I had to get home in a hurry it would still take me awhile.  I feel bad that I can’t watch them grow up or our grandparents grow old.  I feel bad that I am the only one that left, when there was nothing wrong with our home and our family to begin with.  In my mind, they are the most beautiful and perfect pieces of my world.

Dear Sister,

            I just want to say thank you.  Thank you for being the force that led me into my being.  Without you I would have never become a writer.  I would have never started to run.  I would have never moved to Florida, Michigan, or lived in India for a stint of time.  Without you I would have never learned how to grow into something I could never see myself becoming.  Like a goose, you taught me how to spread my wings and fly.  Thank you for making me come alive. 

Dear Sister,

            You know why I feel so connected to the geese?  Because no matter where they go, no matter how far away they fly, they always know when it is time to come home.  Because when I hear them flying overhead, I know where my home is at heart.  I know where I came from and where one day I will return.  When I see a flock of geese flying in a V, I see you and every memory we have made together flash before my eyes.  I see summer, the West, open roads, mountains, water, lakes, sunsets, moons, wine, dirt, mud, berries, vines, birch trees, feathers, stones, tigers eyes, clovers, quilts, rainbows, rose petals, high heels, brown eyes, books.  I see our book.  The one we will write together and tell our story and share our splendor with the world. 

Dear Sister,

            When would you like to start it?

P.S.

My Dear Sister, I love you more than the wisp of the west wind and the honking of geese.  I love you more than all the miles of all the mountains we have climbed and all the sips of red wine we have took.  I love you more than any man I’ve ever loved and all the love I’ve ever made.  I love you more than any God or Goddess there is, because if I could choose, I would only want to worship you.