The letter was dated December 1991. As I read, time seemed to fold in on itself. She wrote about confusion, about words never delivered, about believing I had chosen a different life. With every sentence, the silence that once separated us finally made sense. There was no betrayal, no lack of love — only missed messages and decisions shaped by others. I realized how easily lives can be redirected by moments we never get to explain. We don’t always lose people because we stop caring; sometimes we lose them because timing and truth fail to meet.
That night, long after the house had gone quiet, I sat at my computer and searched her name. I didn’t expect anything to come of it. Decades change people, and many disappear into lives that no longer leave traces online. But there she was — older, yes, but unmistakably herself. Seeing her smile brought a mix of joy and grief, the kind that reminds you how deeply something once mattered. After several attempts at writing and deleting messages, I finally reached out. It wasn’t perfect or poetic — just honest. And sometimes, honesty is all that’s needed.Continue reading…
