Letters Home, Section 2, January 2, 2000

January 2, 2000

Dear Marcie,

I really don’t know how to start this letter since it’s been so long since we’ve talked. I’ve been caring for an elderly woman, Christina, for the last few months, but she died recently. In her last few hours of life, I found some letters she had been writing to her sister, letters she didn’t start writing to her sister until after her sister had died. You see, the lady I’ve been taking care of was quite jealous of her sister and, well, it came between them. Decades passed and they had no contact with each other. But, all these letters that Christina wrote spoke about taking advantage of the time we have and not taking for granted that more time is coming and not letting pride get in the way of life.

It’s been so long since we spoke, but I can’t really remember why we stopped. I remember an argument, though I don’t really remember what it was about. I can’t even remember if I stopped speaking to you or vice versa. Does it really matter anymore? Is there any chance we could get together and chat? May be, together, we can figure it out. After all, we are sisters. And, I’d like to have my sister back so that we can get to know each other again while we still have a chance.

The letters Christina wrote talked a lot about hope and faith and how everyone effects everyone else, how a person’s actions can help or harm another. I couldn’t help but think of us, and to remember a recent encounter I had with a sales clerk last week. I was just doing some shopping but, when it came time to check-out the groceries, the cashier had apparently been having a very bad day with coupons and, well, I had one. She was rude, quite rude, and impressed upon the woman in line behind me that I was not helping her day get any better, talking about how an earlier customer had gotten on her last nerve and made her tear up a sale ad and stomp on it. I found myself unable to say a word. I felt very low when I left. Then, when in the parking lot on the way to my car, an elderly man smiled and said hello to me as we passed, and I only grunted at him. I can only imagine that he felt low after that as well. I think Christina was right when she spoke about how much individuals influence others. Humans do have a responsibility to each other, and I feel guilty for letting someone steal my joy and for stealing the joy of another.

But, I ramble. I’m writing because I miss you and because I’d like to talk to you. I’ll go for now. Perhaps, I’ll write tomorrow. Anyhow, I’ll sign this letter the way Christina often signed her own.


Sisters forever,
Monica

This work is completely fictional. Any resemblance to situations or persons, living or dead, is coincidental and unintentional.