Love, Sam

September 5, 2010

Dear Katie,

I’m so sorry, but I have to go. I can’t stand I know things have been hard this year. I wish it could’ve been different. I’m sorry I’ve been fighting so much with Mom and Dad. I know how much you hate to hear us fight, even if you pretend you slept through it. I’m not a good fit here anymore, and I know that.

Don’t be scared.

Whatever Mom and Dad say

Please don’t hate me when

There are parts of the world where I might be better, and I hope that I’ll find them soon. When I do, you’ll be the first person I call. Be good, okay?

Love you,

Sam

—

November 12, 2011

Dear Katie,

I’m sorry I’m not there for

Happy birthday Bug! I’ll send you a gift when I get some money soon.

When I see you next, I want to hear all about how middle school is going. Is Mr. Freedman still teaching algebra? Mention my name if he is. It took me a second try to pass his class, but I think by the end of that second year I really won him over.

I haven’t been able to keep a job since

Since Mom and Dad froze my

I haven’t found somewhere I want to settle down yet, so I’ve been all over. You’d love California. I’ll tell you about it when I

—

February 4, 2015

Dear Katie,

A lot has changed for me since I left the last time we talked. I ended up in California eventually. I walk dogs I have my own business now. This state’s pretty expensive, though, so I’m living with some people like me roommates friends. Once I’ve saved up Once I have more free time, I want to come see you. Just… you. I don’t know what Mom and Dad told you I don’t really miss home, but I do miss my Katie-bug. Can I still call you that?

I bet you’re like a brand new person now. Well, I want to know all about you. Have you made new friends in high school? Are you dating anyone? Are you looking at colleges? There’s some really good schools out here in California. If you’re still as smart as I remember, I bet you can get in anywhere you want.

I think I’ll give you a call soon

Do you have a cell phone yet?

Here’s my number if you ever want to talk: 555-0512

—

March 19, 2016

December 8th, 2018

June 30th, 2022

September 3, 2025

Dear Katie Kate,

You’re the only person I really feel like I owe any answers to. Would you believe me if I told you I’ve tried writing to you before? I tried the day I left. I was going to leave it in my room for someone to find, but I ended up taking it with me and throwing it out in some gas station along the way. I didn’t want Mom or Dad to be the ones to find it. Then I tried again and again, but there was still the fear you’d show it to them, or tell them about it, or that you didn’t want to hear from me. I don’t know what they’ve told you, or if they’ve told you anything. Maybe they just told you I was troubled, and that they did everything they could. That my fate is in my hands now, or the Lord’s. Did you ever ask about me? Anyways, I keep coming back to this letter.

It’s been six years since I ran away. I miss you so much it hurts. I’m so scared you’re going to forget about me. Sometimes, I still want to come home. Do you guys ever talk about me?

It’s been eight years since they chased me out. Did they tell you about the “therapy” they wanted to send me to?

It’s been twelve years since I left.

It’s been fifteen years since I saw you. I hope you’re doing well. Instagram suggested your account as someone I might know the other day. I didn’t think you’d want me to reach out that way, so I didn’t follow your account. I did look through it, though. I hope you don’t mind. Congratulations on getting your Master’s. I barely recognized you in your pictures. You’re a grown woman with your own life and goals and friends I’ve never met. It’s hard to see my baby sister in those pictures. It makes me a little sad, but Kate, I’m so proud of you.

I’m a little embarrassed for you to see my writing. I never finished high school.

I finished my GED a few years ago. I’ve been thinking about taking some classes at a community college. It’s just a thought, right now. It won’t be a good time for a few years. I have a daughter now, and she’s just a few years younger than you were when I left. and she’s priority number one. I’ll have to talk it over with my wife before I decide anything.

Yes, I know. Wife. The reason I’m so scared to write to you. If I never write it, you can never reject me. You can never hate me like they did.

Their names are

I’m sorry, but I’ve never told your niece about you or Mom or Dad. She’s started to ask why other kids have bigger families than she does.

There’s so much I want to tell you about. There’s so much I want to ask you. I know I can’t get back the years of growing up with you that I missed out on - and that’s pretty much the only thing I’ve regretted since leaving. If this letter is too little, too late, then I’ll understand that. But if it’s not too late for us to be sisters, then give me a call, or a DM, or scribble something on a Post-It and send it back. I love you, Bug. No matter what.

Love,

Sam