For a moment just now I forgot that I wrote to you on Halloween, and freaked out about my broken promise to write to you. Turns out I had forgotten that I had not forgotten to write. There is a tongue twister in here somewhere. “I had forgotten that I had not forgotten that I had forgotten —“
Anyways, how are you doing? It is Christmas season! Candy of all colors is now here while the remaining spoils of Halloween are unsold. I did not send a picture of my costume last Sunday. Here it is now:
Never mind. Pictures aren’t sending again. Cruel, cruel website. I promise my Tintin outfit looked nice. What were you? Did you take any pictures? I hope trick-or-treating was fun. It’s the funnest night of the year! An anecdote: on Halloween of 2019, me and my friend Olivia were handing out large candy bars to children, and I told two boys to take as much as they wanted, as it was close to the end of the night. The absolute glee on their faces as they grabbed as many bars as possible was unforgettable. Halloween is the best of nights!!
Now we must await the next holidays: Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Christmas. Which of these is your favorite? I must say Hanukkah, because you get the presents without the traumatic memory of Christmas 2016, which I’m sure you remember. Did you hear Mom that day? She called out to you.
As part of a class, I have published my finished novella online. I won’t link it here, because I am deathly afraid of anyone seeing it ever (despite the fact that it’s a marketing class — alas), but the book is dedicated to you, and I thought you might want to see the dedication. They’re all, and all that do not yet exist will be in the future, dedicated to you.
As with everything I have done,
To
My beloved sister, Soren.
I mourn your loss like a death to this day.
I often write to you overly-florally, and that is for a silly reason. I am afraid you won’t believe me otherwise. There is a difference in writing ‘I am sad my sister is gone’, and ‘I weep for Adonais — he is dead!” The poet is an especially emotional rhetorician. Unfortunately, I am not very good with poetry, so no one in Eugene believes me when I say I didn’t mean whatever harm it was that warranted my shunning. (I have also read so many old books I can’t help but sound weird at times, oops.)
I’ve spoken too much about myself in this letter. In the next one, I will find more to say about you. It is quite difficult with so little information and such a terrible memory. But I will keep trying. I hope you are well, Soren. I love you.
With love,
Alice