I thought I’d write this letter to you in my head and see if you get it. Are you listening?
My pops writes me letters all the time. Sometimes I read them, but mostly I don’t. They’re sitting in a box in the closet, waiting for me. I have this idea that when I am very sad someday, I will pull out the box and read the letters, every single one.
How do I know I will be very sad someday? That’s just the way life works, isn’t it? We’re happy. Everything is great. And then something happens. Something we’ve always tried to prevent, and we’re sad.
But it doesn’t last. You know this, right? Even when you’re so sad you think that life might not even go on, or at least not the way that it did before, it changes, and then you’re smiling again.
Sometimes, I like to get mad. It’s a way to make the sadness go a little more quickly. I might yell and scream, “Yo! Yobaska!” You should try it sometime. It really helps!
Anyway, little sister, I wanted to write you in my head to thank you for letting me come visit. I think that might be one of the best times I’ve ever had. Seeing you was something.
Thank your mum, too. She really is amazing.
I wonder sometimes what it would be like to have a mum. It must be especially nice. I bet her hands feel soft when she tucks you in at night or when she combs your hair. Of course, I don’t have any hair to comb! I do have a scalp to scratch, though!
If you ever wonder what it’s like to have a pops, you could borrow mine–or you could pretend that he’s your pops. He is quite distinctly awesome. It’s hard to describe what it feels like to have him for my pops, but let me see if I can try, anyway.
Have you ever slept outside in the moonlight, and it feels like the nighttime cradles you in its starry cool fingers? And, at the very same instant, you feel like life is close and safe, while it is also vast and expanding?
That what it feels like to have Sebastion Sevens as my pops. It’s as safe as a cradle and as expansive as the universe. My pops delivers the whole package.
Come to think of it, Harmony feels like that, too.
You and I are lucky, little sis. We’ve got the best in mums and pops.
I hope you get this letter I’m sending! I hope you’ll come see me when you’re a bit older and can travel.
Until then, you know how to find me. Just whistle.
Your brother in all things always,