Fake Letters to Real People
Dear Cedar,
You may wonder who I am. You may know some things that are true about me, and some that are not. I want to tell you who I am, because I am a person who loves you from afar. Same goes for your siblings, the ones I haven’t met yet. The ones I may never get to meet. My name is Julian, also known as Uncle Julian, or your ex-aunt, or a stranger.
“UGH!”
You may wonder who I am. You may know some things that are true about me, and some that are not. I want to tell you who I am, because I am a person who loves you from afar. Same goes for your siblings, the ones I haven’t met yet. The ones I may never get to meet. My name is Julian, also known as Uncle Julian, or your ex-aunt, or a stranger.
“UGH!”
The sound of keyboard clicks came to a halt. Silence filled the room, followed by a deep sigh. As Julian glanced over the collection of letters and spaces that built up his first paragraph, he took a deep breath and started over.
“Honesty,” he said out loud. “This is just for you. No one else ever needs to read it.”
He didn’t want to delete anything just yet, so he pressed ‘Enter’ a few times.
“Honesty,” he said out loud. “This is just for you. No one else ever needs to read it.”
He didn’t want to delete anything just yet, so he pressed ‘Enter’ a few times.
Dear Cedar,
Before you were born, I got a Gap credit card. Did you know that? I ended up using it for myself sometimes, but the real reason I got it was for Baby Gap. I was so excited to be, what I called myself at the time, an aunt. I thought I was going to be the best aunt ever. I cried the night you were born. I was several states away, and zoomed in on the first photo I ever saw of you, weeping at the size of your perfect nostril. My heart felt different after that. You were someone I cared about who I didn’t need anything from. I didn’t need you to see me or to like me or to even know who I was. But you did. All of those things, you did.
I still care about you. I always have and always will. It feels trite to type that. No one ever means those words, do they? I think I mean them. Even if we don’t get to be in each other’s lives, you are a person I want to be alive. You are a person who matters. You have the unique earthly challenge of navigating the Peters family dynamics. I get it. I know I haven’t been there recently, but I was. For 31 years...
Julian started drafting a sentence in his head to broach the topic of Cedar’s mother, Annie. His sister-in-law’s rejection is what kept Julian away from his nephew, but he couldn’t bring himself to press any keys about her. This was a lot. Thinking about his family was a lot. He needed to change the subject. Not on the page, he decided, but in his mind. New topic, please! New thoughts, please.
He rotated his head around his neck, feeling the sharp tug of strained muscles in his shoulders and upper back. He heard some clicking and rearranging of the bones and cartilage. He probably practiced this movement fifty times a day. It was a certain stim, he decided. It must be. He turned his gaze to the left during one of these motions and noticed a forgotten cup of sleepy time tea. “Oh yeah! Almost bedtime,” he said aloud to himself. Not that it really mattered. There was nothing on the calendar to get up for. No regular schedule. This made him feel equally relieved and embarrassed. Embarrassment when you’re alone is probably more like shame.
Recently, Julian had to start trimming his nose hairs. He was telling everyone about this. He had no shame. He purchased a manual tool that worked pretty well and was delighted to announce the unlikelihood of tangled boogers after deforestation. But there were pros and cons. An empty cavern with bare walls is basically a funnel for thin, clear nose drippings. He found himself using more tissues than ever to catch them. Whereas before, he was picking his nose too much. That was both involuntary and embarrassing. Oh, to be in a human body. Sometimes, you just can’t win.
Perhaps the closest Julian would ever get to loving his body is knowing he cared enough to trim his nose hairs. Perhaps the closest he would ever get to reuniting with his family is ordering iced tea at restaurants and joking that iced tea is one of the main things he and his parents have in common. “Yes, I love iced tea! And so do they!” Perhaps the closest he would get to Michigan is staying exactly where he was. Perhaps he wanted that. Perhaps he didn’t.
Before you were born, I got a Gap credit card. Did you know that? I ended up using it for myself sometimes, but the real reason I got it was for Baby Gap. I was so excited to be, what I called myself at the time, an aunt. I thought I was going to be the best aunt ever. I cried the night you were born. I was several states away, and zoomed in on the first photo I ever saw of you, weeping at the size of your perfect nostril. My heart felt different after that. You were someone I cared about who I didn’t need anything from. I didn’t need you to see me or to like me or to even know who I was. But you did. All of those things, you did.
I still care about you. I always have and always will. It feels trite to type that. No one ever means those words, do they? I think I mean them. Even if we don’t get to be in each other’s lives, you are a person I want to be alive. You are a person who matters. You have the unique earthly challenge of navigating the Peters family dynamics. I get it. I know I haven’t been there recently, but I was. For 31 years...
Julian started drafting a sentence in his head to broach the topic of Cedar’s mother, Annie. His sister-in-law’s rejection is what kept Julian away from his nephew, but he couldn’t bring himself to press any keys about her. This was a lot. Thinking about his family was a lot. He needed to change the subject. Not on the page, he decided, but in his mind. New topic, please! New thoughts, please.
He rotated his head around his neck, feeling the sharp tug of strained muscles in his shoulders and upper back. He heard some clicking and rearranging of the bones and cartilage. He probably practiced this movement fifty times a day. It was a certain stim, he decided. It must be. He turned his gaze to the left during one of these motions and noticed a forgotten cup of sleepy time tea. “Oh yeah! Almost bedtime,” he said aloud to himself. Not that it really mattered. There was nothing on the calendar to get up for. No regular schedule. This made him feel equally relieved and embarrassed. Embarrassment when you’re alone is probably more like shame.
Recently, Julian had to start trimming his nose hairs. He was telling everyone about this. He had no shame. He purchased a manual tool that worked pretty well and was delighted to announce the unlikelihood of tangled boogers after deforestation. But there were pros and cons. An empty cavern with bare walls is basically a funnel for thin, clear nose drippings. He found himself using more tissues than ever to catch them. Whereas before, he was picking his nose too much. That was both involuntary and embarrassing. Oh, to be in a human body. Sometimes, you just can’t win.
Perhaps the closest Julian would ever get to loving his body is knowing he cared enough to trim his nose hairs. Perhaps the closest he would ever get to reuniting with his family is ordering iced tea at restaurants and joking that iced tea is one of the main things he and his parents have in common. “Yes, I love iced tea! And so do they!” Perhaps the closest he would get to Michigan is staying exactly where he was. Perhaps he wanted that. Perhaps he didn’t.
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