Dearest Mae

Dearest Mae,

How long is it since I've been deprived of your existence in my life? How bizarre is it that despite our one and only meeting that proved to be as brief and precious as the life of a mayfly, my thoughts are always with you? For all I know, you are a very prosperous woman, gallivanting the world and building life where it was once abandoned. I hope you don't think me too whimsical in imaging you as a fierce, yet incredibly real heroine who bides her time by rescuing all the ailing children in the streets and improving their conditions so drastically that they are forever in your debt. Perhaps the last bit of your illustration is not too humbling, so I will alter it by saying that these children, now successful adults, will forever hold you in their hearts as a mother, a very dear friend, or even a saint. Yes, that seems to brighten the shining glow surrounding your grotto within my mind. It may be too much to hope, but whenever you come frolicking into my mind, I cross my fingers and entertain the thought that you are thinking of me as well. You know they tell me that we are identical. Imagine that! Well, for once, I can't imagine it; which is ironic enough because if I ever wanted to see you, I should be satisfied by my own reflection, but the woman who smiles back is always me, and never you. It simply isn't the same. Therefore I had a team of researchers tracing you. Honestly, that last phrase makes you sound like a hardened criminal, but you've escaped me for so long that I should think you a thief. You are my sister, so your heart is bound to mine, and if that be true, then you have run off with a good portion of myself, and I would be much obliged should you return to me.

I fancy your name to be symbolic of your own nature. May is the month of our Lady, and so you must pardon me for believing that you are as near to immaculate as any human being could possibly become. Well now you must pardon me for begging your pardon for believing something so gracious about you. It seems that I am going in circles with my letter, although the hunt for your location is a vicious cycle as well. Regrettably I must confess that I remember naught about you except that you loved to practice your braids on my hair. To this day, I have never worn a braid. It may seem foolish of me, but braids remind me of my lost twin sister. It is a shame that there is no evidence or practice of telekinesis within my mind. Evidently identical twins are said to have such powers, but I must be void of any such spiritualistic talents. Truth be told, the idea of telekinesis between twins seems like a bit of romanticism to me, but my desperation to discover you is so acute, that I childishly play into the fantasies because that is, at the moment, all you are. A mere fantasy. I have never felt your presence nor experienced anything you may be thinking or feeling. When I was younger I use to shut my eyes tightly and wish with all my heart that I would sense anything related to you, but I always had to yield my mind power to the common ability of imagining. I'll share with you one image where Mother sits near a fire with her beautiful Cherokee dress, and her perfect raven black braids resting on her shoulders, and her brown skin warming both of us as we sat near her on either side of her knees. She could always speak proper English in my dreams. You, of course, look exactly like me, but you always mimic my movements, which really irritates me. I suppose your behavior in my dreams is based off the only thing I know about you, which is that you are identical to me.

I confess, with some level of humility, that I write these letters as a form of therapy for myself. It may seem absurd for a woman who is now advanced in her age to be pining over a relation of whom she not only met briefly, but at such a young and vague age. I don't possess a single memory to invoke or even a picture to pacify this puzzling yet insatiable desire to stand before you as a sister who has recovered a lost treasure. There is some depth of emptiness within me that I cannot account for as I hardly know you. In fact, I don't know you all. I only know of you. However, there is a definite sense of claim that I have on you as family. That connection, though it be the bare minimum of a trace, is so compelling that it is like a tyrant reigning over me. The reality of my solitude has dealt a hand in this, reminding me always of your absence. I have no husband, no children, and no family with whom to share my company. All I am permitted is a hospital bed, a paper to fill in, and this busy pen which is capable of transforming these words into empty sentences. They are only empty in that I am the sole proprietor of their value. Unfortunately there is no known address of your current accommodation, but should we ever meet, I will have a novel of letters to present to you.

Indeed there is an urgency about me to find you, one of rapturous and agonizing yearning. I am torn between reasons of sororal affinity and insatiability, the latter of which has a firm hold upon my will and ruminates upon fettering you once and for all in my world, fore I am of strong conviction that if I did miraculously capture you, the sinful temptation of coveting you would impel me to alter most unbecomingly into your oppressor. Of course such a transformation would be unintentional and provoked by my consuming fervor to have you near me. I am very passionate on the matter, as you may have gathered by now, but there is a more earnest explanation for that. Mae, my mystical sister, you have only existed in my dreams and yet I would be inclined to escape there with you as my reality is laced with a cancerous affliction that permeates throughout the whole of my body. I ache physically with a pain unimaginable to those lucky enough to have never encountered it, and yet, Mae, because of you, I can weave the tangible pain with that of your absence, and in this manner, I merge the two injuries, that of the body with that of the heart, into one. Only then can I believe that my suffering is as simple as missing you. I am told that my time in this world is limited which only inflames my need to see you all the more. It is imperative that you know, if you receive these letters too late should you ever receive them, that my intentions are not to make you feel guilty, regretful, or mournful. Please understand, Mae, that I have ardently loved you, missed you incessantly, and will with pure sincerity remain your twin sister wherever I end up. If permitted by the divine, I will remain your guardian angel with an utmost vigilance regarding your safety and happiness. And I, though having exited your world that we once shared, will have the satisfaction of beholding you once again.

Yours Always,

Madelyn

© Mikal Minarich