Time to Begin Again

5/18/2023

Dear May,

I know we don’t usually write letters, but this feels easier. They say baby steps are still progress, and I feel like I’ve done nothing but crawl for years. So, here I am. I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took so long for me to send you a letter. You deserved better, but somehow right now this is my best.

I guess that’s all,

Lane

5/21/2023

Dear May,

I feel like I should apologize for my last apology. Would that be enough? I’ve recently heard “a friend sticks closer than a brother.” I guess that’s true because I’m your big sister and I left. But now it all feels so childish, so petty, so unnecessary. So, I think I owe you an explanation. My therapist recommended I try this, and I wonder if she’s right.

When I left, I wasn’t thinking of you. Not intentionally at least. I was ready for a change. I felt like I had to go. I’d been around our hometown long enough to know that the bakery only ever has apple fritters before 9:30am on Saturdays, the guy at the gas station will give you a free Snickers if you ask him what band he’s listening to in his headphones, and that if you stand still long enough everything will move on without you. I didn’t want to be left behind, so I left. My high school sweetheart was engaged to someone else, my dream job fell through, and our town was singing me to sleep. The kind of sleep only found in a dull, monotonous nap that slowly becomes part of a routine when there’s nothing exciting enough to keep you awake.

It was easier to stay, but right to leave. That’s what I used to think, until I realized that when I left I was leaving you behind. Our parents were getting older and I could tell it was a lot for you. I figured you could handle it though. Everyone always thought you were so strong. Now, I don’t think anyone is strong enough to do it all on their own. I’m sorry you had to try that.

Lane

6/7/2023

Hey May,

Have you gotten any of my letters yet? I hope you’re doing okay. If you get them please give me a call. My number hasn’t changed. I’ll leave it at the end of this letter, just in case you’re having a hard time finding it :)

Lane

6/12/2023

May,

I finally came to town today after Charlie called me. I met him. He seems kind. He told me that he heard that you had a sister and found me on WhitePages. He said that you weren’t doing well. So, I’m here.

I didn’t know they put you in a coma to try to save your life. Charlie said you read the first letter before it all went down, but since then the unopened letters have been piling up. I don’t know when you’ll wake up, but I’m praying you do soon. In case you can still hear us though, I thought I would read my letters out loud. I want you to know that I love you sis.

Lane

6/13/2023

May,

I talked to Charlie more. He says you would talk about me sometimes. You would tell him stories from when we were little, but there was never any story past when we were in middle school. You told him how I used to get you out of trouble and stand up for you. I could tell he wanted to ask me what changed: why I left, why I haven’t been there for you now that we are older. The words never actually left his mouth, but it would gave been understandable if they had. When you were slipping, my hand was nowhere to be found.

Charlie did, however, fill me in on some of the gaps to your story. Where I had put an idealized version of your life, he put the truth.

I didn’t know you lived on the street for a bit. I had no idea. I think that if I had stopped long enough to think about it, to wonder how you were, my mind might have meandered there. But I kept busy. There was a constant hum in my ears, to keep everything from getting too loud. But I guess that didn’t fix it, it didn’t help, it just numbed.

I know at first we checked in every week, but watered with apathy and shifting priorities that grew to every month, and slowly creeped to maybe once a year. When you told me you were fine, I believed you. I didn’t ask questions. My life was starting to go okay in this new place. If I actually considered what yours was like, how the grass on the other side might just be dirt with a few seeds that barely saw the sun, it would have made my life prickly. I didn’t want that.

Lane

6/15/2023

May,

I read you my letters this morning. You didn’t cry, but I did. And I swear I felt you squeeze my hand. I hope we can start again when you wake up. I know this might be cheesy but, remember how we used to go to Sunday School with Grandma Jo when you were 5 and I was 7. Well, I’ve been thinking about that recently. They always used to teach us about Jesus forgiving us for our sins. I don’t think I fully understood that then, and I still don’t now. But I think maybe I get it a little more now than I did then. If it’s possible for me to start over with someone as big as God, maybe you and I can too. Maybe it’s not too late for us sisters to also be friends.

They say you might be in the coma for awhile, and I want you to know that I’ll be here for as long as you are. And when you wake up we will go from there. If you don’t want me in your life anymore, I’ll leave. But if you want me to stay, well you already know what my answer will be. Me staying this time won’t magically fix anything, it would be stupid of me to think that. But maybe it would be nice if we could walk through this life together.

Your sister,

Lane