Do You Remember? and I Miss You.

Dear Sarah M.,

I don't find this world too amusing anymore. This morning I awoke to thoughts of grandeur snuffed by circumstance and cat hair up my nose. We used to be children. Do you remember that? Not long ago we were both just tots falling down playing tag and getting grass stains on our knees. Now I'm on the cusp of adultness, but I'm not adapting as I should. I find myself crying in the bathroom at work. And then disassociate from reality when I get to the car on the drive home, unsure completely of how I got there. I feel the empty sunspots of my deserted house with my hands. It's burning hot nowadays, have you realized this? I wonder how you are doing. I wonder if California is as glamorous as the media has made it out to be. Or do you still wallow in your self-pity? Like in middle school? When we used to split tangerines and smell the rinds.

With almost too much love,

Sara J.

Dear Sara J.,

Of course, I still wallow in my self-pity. My lungs, my brain, they feel too stale for this place, I feel like the boring, awkward little dandelion in a field of glorious, multicolored hibiscus all loving each other. It is so beautiful though. California is just as nuanced as the East Coast, everyone seems to be from some different sector of this giant state. I feel the same way you do, but less like a child and more like I'm the black sheep of the family. All my coworkers are so bubbly, they all hike, meditate, surf, and smile like it's going out of style. And I am an obvious deviation from that pattern and I'm sure, I'm so sure it's obvious. I'm too fast with my work, too eager, dark-haired, grimacing personality, and it's so clear I don't fit in. And to be frank, my friend, I'm lonely. I do miss when we were kids, I miss the fall, cold, muddy jeans, and striped long-sleeve shirts in the wind. Here all the seasons blend together so summer never feels earned. And yes it is getting hotter, have you watched the sunset lately? It's so bright I actually avoid looking at it every day. Do you remember when we would chase the moon at night? in your grandmother's garden in New Jersey? We used to run so fast and breathe so easily. Have you tried talking with your brother recently?

With far too much sincerity,

Sarah M.

Dear Sara J.,

No, I have not seen nor talked to my brother in the past few months. I'm worried about your self-esteem. You do know you are a once-in-a-generation find, right? Who cares if you don't fit in with the kooky Hollywoods, You're not supposed to. Your brain is different for a reason, you are a creative, you are meant to be something else entirely. And yes, of course, I remember my grandmother's garden in New Jersey. We used to dance around in the sprinklers in the summer when all that lavender would grow. I admit I'm envious you get to explore somewhere new. Nothing seems to ever change here. Like the Dollar Tree parking lot where we did doughnuts in your first car and blew a tire. Back when the winters were actually cold and roads would frost. I also avoid the sunset now, it is dazzlingly colored but scary how different the sun itself looks. I wish you were closer, we could go get lunch or something. Do you remember how we used to do that all the time when you were in college?

Hearts abundant,

Sarah M.

Dear Sarah M.,

It's funny writing like this. The act of writing pen and ink on paper is so...good. Typing is quick and fine, but the scrawling, frantic nature of actually putting something on paper makes me wonder why we ever stopped doing it in the first place. I love reading your handwriting, there is something so nostalgic and lovely about thinking of you putting in the force and the work to write something to me, and from me to you. Yes, I wish teleportation existed so we could eat together again. I wish I could take you to some of the places here, just about all the food is better on the West Coast. Except for pizza, unfortunately, I have yet to find a pizza place here (or a classic sub shop) that rivals the ones back home. And it's what I crave all the time. That car sucked anyway, it was worn and torn and I had to get rid of it after a year, those doughnuts were the only thing it really had a good purpose for. I miss the snow as well. When it would pile all high we'd sled down those hills in the back of the senior center. And the sky was blank and grey, devoid of sun or color. There was something so refreshing about that. I remember college times well, I remember picking you up from your shift at the Mall. You and your giant scarves and thick socks over your leggings. When your brother would take us to his friend's band's gigs at those bars in PA. You should talk to your brother, he can be there. I can't be.

With all of my soul,

Sara J.

Dear Sara J.,

Writing to you makes me feel better. I agree that the paper and the pen make everything much more potent and meaningful than sending emails and reading words tirelessly on a screen. I'm glad to hear that East Coast pizza still reigns supreme. I don't doubt for a second that everything over there is probably so much more fresh and gratifying though. It must be nice. I feel happier, and more pleasant now that we are writing to each other. It feels as if everything is much lighter and worth it. But, Sara, I fear it is just momentary. As time goes on my head will get dark again, and I will wonder what the point is. And you bring up my brother again. I am afraid to speak to him. I suddenly have doubts that he does not want to associate with me anymore, as though I am a great failure. I miss you, I miss you so much. You were and continue to be the only real person in this entire world to me. The only genuine personality left. My best friend. Do you remember when we met at the daycare, and they called us the twins? Because of our names. When you ate sand and I drank the hose water because we were children that let our wants outweigh our logic. I miss that freedom. The dismissal of our obscene actions with chuckles and gentle lectures. Do you ever think about that? Do you think about your mother often? She was such a beautiful person.

Blathering on,

Sarah M.

Dear, Sarah M.,

It is hard. To be here without a person I love. That I love as much as I love you. I concur with you on that. But I don't agree with your fear. It's hard when you don't know what you want to do with this marble of life in your hand. This precious marble. That has so much stuff in it already yet there is much left to do. It's difficult to decide, and you feel as if the options are already limited. But they aren't. They never are and they never have been. You can do whatever you want without this fear you hold onto. Because it's still nobody else's life. It's your life, Sarah. And I know you know that, somewhere within you, you know. Your brother does not hate you. I love you and I miss you and I'm so, so, so sure that he feels the exact same. If you would just go see him, give him a call, text him, you'd see that. And, yes, of course, I think about my mother. I know she watches our discourse wherever she decides to reside within the universe. I think about her whenever I see a lady wearing yellow, wool sweaters. I've made my peace with her passing. I've been trying to make peace with my loneliness but that is proving to be more hard. You are my person too. My best friend. And don't you dare ever question that. Please, get back to me with news soon of your plans with your brother. I want to know you're alright.

With love so sweet it'll melt your brain,

Sara J.

Dear Sara J.,

You are right. I know you are right. I would love for you to send over one of your scripts. I want to read more of your writing. And come visit, please, please come visit whenever you can. I want to talk to you in person again. So we can do the 'Do you remember?'s' and 'I miss you's' in person. I called my brother yesterday, he wants to go to the Boardwalk. I'm unsure how to console your lonliness at this distance. All I can say is that I know you are loved. And you are not hard to love like you think you are. Maybe I was too quick to dismiss the laid back lifestyles of the Californians, maybe go for a hike. There is no point in having the fear of connection, a really good one is just an accident away, afterall. Seriously, send a script and I'll send you one of those nice scented candles in return. One that smells like autumn so you won't miss it so bad.

With smiles warm like sunshine,

Sarah M.