Dear Jasmine,
I'm a day late and a dollar short with this first letter, which is how our relationship has been for the last year-each having her own thing to do, never calling or coming to see each other until the climax has come and gone. I miss you.
When we were little children we would hug each other and hope and wish that somehow God would make us sisters. It wasn't good enough that were cousins; we needed more than flesh and blood to define us. We needed spirits and holy waters and whatever else that would make us closer. But despite the different sets of parents, genetic traits and birth years, I knew that God had put us together in this perfect little way that neither time nor last names could change.
I was wrong.
By the time we'd made it to high school everything had changed. You spent a lot of your summers in summer school; I stayed at the local library by choice. You were able to hold a steady boyfriend; I didn't keep one long enough for it to be interesting. I started having sex; you were still an innocent, "good" girl. But you have always been fearless, never afraid to be yourself, to love yourself, to be loved.
I tried to tell you when were 12 that Harry* was molesting me, but you were so wrapped up in the TV you didn't hear it. I made a plan then to leave whatever was happening in my mother's house behind and run for college with the fiercest wind beneath my wings. When I turned 18, I got the hell out that house. You were still in high school, had night classes and extra credits to complete because school was never easy for you.
I know that I broke our promises. I'm sorry that I moved to Atlanta and "forgot" about you. I didn't mean to turn my back on you, Jasmine. We had always dreamed of getting our apartment and having fabulous lives and finding love. We were going to get married to twins, live next door and have our children together. I know I broke our promises.
Isaiah was born January 30, 2010. You were the first person I'd told I was pregnant, first person who I told I wasn't ready to be a mother. You saw me 3 times during my pregnancy, and that was hard to bear.
Remember when were children? We did everything together. We dressed alike accidentally, liked the same songs, got our periods 2 months apart, and wore the same hairstyles. We spent the night together almost every night, shared the money I made from chores, helped each other sneak on the phone to talk to boyfriends... Is there anything we didn't do?
Looking back on the last 20 years, I realized that we really were sisters. I came to term with the fact that our paths were inevitably different because our parents' lives were. Time did to us what it always will to people, it changed our attitudes and our emotions. We have so much beneath the surface, too much to tell and share with the world but enough to have and hold in our hearts, forever.
I want to leave you with this. If ever life becomes too painful or too hard to bear, know that when you call or come running I'll be here waiting, with open arms. I didn't move to leave you Jasmine, I moved to lead you. To show you that there's more to our existence than the Flint River and Winn Dixie, more than broken wishes and false hopes for our generation. You are capable of the best. You deserve everything you've ever dreamed of; you're a kind and understanding person through and through.
I wove you widdle Jasmine.
Sincerely,
Court.
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