Sent with Love

Dear Clarice,

Writing letters is pretty old-fashioned, I know, but I’m almost positive that I can single-handedly end quarantine by sending a message because they never arrive before I need to go someplace. Hey, if I can manage to actually settle on what I’m writing to you, maybe we can even get back to school this fall.

I question if I can settle on something to send you because this is the fifth time I’ve written this. They’re not in the trash yet -- yet -- because I’ve decided it’s far too cliche to crumple the letters up and throw them in the trash can where they can be discovered by a random side character. I intend to burn them, so don’t ask to see them. They’ll be erased from the world, and I’ll sleep in peace. 

See? This is the exact kind of thing I wrote in the last five letters, and they ended up with a fate worse than death -- abandoned by their creator. 

No, you don’t have to write a letter back. I don’t see how you possibly could respond.

Sincerely, 

Ren.

Hey Ren,

Your faith in me is almost disappointing. How could I not respond to such a letter? Also, I have next to nothing to do -- so why not?

I’m sad to say that when I received this, we’ve just got the second wave of lockdown from our governor, so you jinxed it, Ren. It’s been a while since you moved to California, so I’ll forgive you this once for forgetting how things work here. All of the stores are still filled with people, and the “one-way” stickers they put in the aisles are crumbling apart from how many times they’ve been walked over. Masks, hand sanitizer, and rubbing alcohol are as precious as diamonds in this trying time. 

Oh, Mrs. Reynolds went on maternity leave right before the last week of school, and mom asked me to give her a cherry pie. Which I did -- regrettably. If you’re curious, she still hasn’t forgiven us for that prank we pulled a few years ago. Although now, she glares instead of actively telling teachers how much trouble we are. Maybe it’s because you left, and I’m not as threatening without you.  

I miss you our pranks, but just know that our names have gone down in infamy.

Love,

Clarice.

Hi,

I must say, I don’t appreciate your attempt to one-up my lame greeting with your laid back “hey,” so please reconsider one-upping me in the future. 

The state of the pandemic is pretty much the same here too. Our neighborhood has a few stores within walking distance, and all of the shelves are wiped clean of toilet paper and towels. When the first cases of Corona Virus appeared in the news, and my teachers started to talk about cleaning the room ourselves, the last thing I expected to not be able to find is toilet paper.

I imagine your mom is freaking out about the shortages, huh? She always kept the house perfectly stocked with so much stuff that I thought the store got groceries from her when I was younger. You turned out just like her. Both of you are always so organized, prepared, and articulate. Between you and me, we both know you were the brains of our pranking operations, which I also miss.

Sincerely, 

Ren.

My dearest Ren,

It was most atrocious of me to so-called “one-up” you. Please accept my sincerest apologies for this most egregious action; it was not my intention. Also, you had to look up “articulate,” didn’t you? Do you carry around a dictionary now? A thesaurus? Is that why two books are missing from our office library? At least you’re keeping up with your exercise then if you’re carrying around books.

By the way, your letter came a little slower than I expected. Is everything okay? 

Sincerely, 

Clarice.

Hi,

I’m sticking with, “hi.” “Hi” is a pleasant greeting even though you practically dragged my good name through the dirt with your entire letter. 

And considering you showed me the slightest amount of concern toward the end of your letter, I’ll do you a favor and answer your question. Yeah, I’m doing okay. Dad liked the idea of me sending you a letter, and that’s why he reached out to your mom for your address, but I got super nervous about it, you know? We talked every day when I still lived in Colorado, but once I got to California, we didn’t talk as much. I know, I know, that it’s pretty much my fault because I didn’t manage my work correctly and stopped answering your texts, but it’s just so weird that I don’t have you by my side. If that makes sense. It just felt like something changed between us when I moved. Like you said in your first response, even teachers don’t fear only one of the pair. I just wish I hadn’t moved.

Love (so I don’t sound too cold),

Ren

My dearest Ren, 

Yeah, I understand how you feel. If it makes you feel better, you’re still my best friend, and you’ll continue to be even if you send your texts a little late. It sucks that you moved farther away, but life just happens, and it was a perfect job opportunity for your dad. We’ll get through it together (from six feet apart and with masks).

Love (say it with emotion, you coward),

Clarice

Hi,

You’re right, as always. Dad said that with the pay raise, we might be able to come back to Colorado and visit during the holidays, so that’s a plus. Well, after the pandemic is over, of course. 

Also, why is your letter so short? You know how slow these letters arrive? We should start writing encyclopedias on these papers and just answer each question in order. Besides, the more we write on one page, the less we have to spend on stamps. When dad and I first went to the post office, the lady looked at me like I was insane when I handed the letter over without any postage. At that moment, I finally understood why our parents said we’d know when we were older. No experience could have prepared me for that.

Love (with emotion),

Coward

My dearest Ren,

I can’t believe you found a way to deflect over letters, but I’ll let it be.

You could have just asked me how to send a letter and spared yourself that experience, as I -- the elder of our pair by two whole months -- have sent a letter for my mom before. Clearly, I have bested you in this situation and thus have proved my worthiness in this regard. 

By the way, thanks for the word of the day calendar. I know you sent it in jest, but I’m kind of in love with it and genuinely implementing the terms into my daily vocabulary -- if you can’t tell. Honestly, I thought that I wouldn’t be able to keep up with it because I’m always so bad at remembering to change the day, but in quarantine, I’ve been managing just fine. You’re still so thoughtful, which is a trait I don’t think you give yourself near enough credit for. No matter how prepared I am, you always know how to lighten someone’s mood, and that is hardly something that I can come prepared within my backpack. 

Love, 

Clarice

Hi,

I know it’s been a while. Please don’t get mad. I just realized, as I was watching you post on social media and hang out with all of our friends, how much I missed you. So, I wrote another six drafts of this letter on how great you are, but those were far too corny to send. 

I’m coming back to Colorado to attend college. Two years is long enough apart, right?

Love,

Ren

My dearest Ren,

You’ve so often said that the letters were far too corny to send, but please don’t burn them this time. I don’t think I’d ever get tired of reading what you send me. 

Do you know how much I love your handwriting? The swoop of your signature and the indents on the paper just makes our interaction feel so real. It’s like running my finger along the paper brings us closer than if you just sent me a text or an email, maybe that was the draw of letters even in a world gone digital. 

Please, when you come back to Colorado, don’t stop sending me letters. I’m so excited to see you again. 

Love, 

Clarice