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Pen-PalFor 15 years I’ve been writing letters to Someone.
No, not just anyone, in fact…Someone, whose name I don’t know because my mother told me to write a letter to Someone the summer after my dad passed, so that’s exactly what I did. Dear Someone, I wrote, and I signed it sincerely, Me. In some ways, it was like writing a letter to Santa, but Santa’s replies were stock and bulk printed to apply to the typical general letter, and Someone’s replies changed each time. My mother photocopied all my letters before I sent them and collected them in a booklet as precious mementos. I collected my replies.
When I was 15, I asked my mom if she had been the one replying. Honestly, I said. I mean, who else would I be writing letters to? Someone, with no address. Yet somehow, the letter got places, and somehow one always returned with no address other than “Me.” I went through a phase of tests to get my mom to confess, a phase of disbelief, a phase