Letter from Isabelle 7

This entry is for Sunday Scribblings: Holiday Memories.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6


Date: December 15, 2007
Dear L,

Memories came in bits and pieces - just swimming in my mind - all those holidays that we used to shared, all the presents that we were given, all the tidbits of what used to be my happy life - unglued in front of me. Images of you and me opening our presents in front of the huge Christmas tree that Dad insisted on getting each Christmas even though it scratches the ceiling.

I recalled the Christmas where you declared you wanted to be an actor. We were surrounded by close relatives during what to be a very long dinner. We had just turned twenty-one that very week. You had too much white wine. You draped yourself with the white table cloth and started reciting Shakespeare, while dancing around the room. We all had a good laugh. They all thought you were joking but I knew you weren't.

Later that night, you told Mom and Dad about your plans to quit college and start your acting career. Their faces folded into a stern, but concern look. You, Mom, Dad were in the living room while I was near the kitchen door peering through the small opening. I can hear your voices - rising and falling. I can hear your voice shaking and crying. I listened as I grabbed plates and silverware and placed them into the dish washer. I wanted to go in there and tell them to let you go but I couldn't. I wanted you to stay and the thought of you so far away made me stayed in the kitchen.

After the fight, you told me all about it. I wanted to comfort you but I couldn't bring myself to. That was when I threw that vase at you that placed a large scar on your left cheek. You walked out of the house and toward the playground where we used to play as kids.

I knew you were there. I walked there in the cold with my winter coat and my wool hat. I sat down on the swing next to you. We had always wondered why the playground was always opened. You said it was so kids can have a place to run away to.

I can see the blood on your cheek in the dull streetlight. You looked at me with your beautiful blue eyes full of tears. I couldn't help it as tears spilled out of my eyes and you stood up and pushed me in the swing like we did when we were kids. We said nothing but I knew you had already forgiven me.

You gave me a hug before we left the playground. You were a head taller than me. My head rested on your shoulder. I can smell the scent of pine trees from when you helped Dad carried the Christmas tree home. I felt safe in your arms. Then you gave me my Christmas present - a silver angel made from wires, hanging on a silver chain. You showed me the one you're wearing around your neck. You handmade them just for us - two unique angels. You said we'll be each other's guardian angel. You kissed the top of my head and told me you won't leave without saying goodbye. We walked home holding hands, like two kids going to school.

Of cause, you did leave without saying goodbye. The very next day after another big fight with Mom and Dad. I was at the library doing research. When I came home, you were gone. I don't think I cried. I locked myself in my door until the semester started again.

It was always as if Mom and Dad didn't want us to change, to grow up. They wanted us to stay the same - the same sweet Isy and the same lovable Leo. But that's not how we turned out. Our final Christmas dinner together with Mom and Dad occurred when we were sixteen. They had decided or they had us agreed that it was best we don't have any Christmas dinners or wasted time buying presents for each other. I thought that was the end of our closeness - our beginning separation from Mom and Dad. It seem we were not the only ones that were changing. They too, seem rather reluctant to admit that they didn't like their children as much as they used to.

I supposed we disappointed them by following in their footsteps as doctors or lawyers - both professors that Mom and Dad's family were all in. I didn't turned out to be the genius lawyer that they wanted and you, Leo, didn't turned into the family doctor or the heart surgeon that Dad was. I knew you wanted to be an actor and I, well, I couldn't decide. I can't seem to make a decision and stick to it. I had always thought you would help me to decide but instead you've left me alone to decide on my own.

We went to separate colleges and that had always devastated me. We were already separating even before college. I thought at least we would see each during breaks but you had other plans. You joined an actors' theater and didn't have any time for me. I had settled on two majors but knew in the end, I had forced myself into making those decisions. I have never blamed you for my indecision. I supposed I had opened myself to more wounds that won't heal.

College life didn't suited me. I often stayed in my dorm for weeks and the thought of ever completing anything was so far from my mind. Still I had managed to finished college, get a job and a place of my own. While you moved to Los Angeles to continued your acting career. You weren't there at my graduation. I felt alone even in Mom and Dad's presence.

Two weeks later, I received letters from you but they seem so impersonal, so unlike you. After a while, they didn't come. The last one had said you moved back to New York, our hometown which I had always stayed. I never wanted to see the world, it was always you. I thought you would contact me but there was no letter or phone calls from you. Mom and Dad told me to forget about you. But I couldn't, how could I? Your twin sister with whom you had shared so many secrets and dreams? So many late nights we stayed up late just talking. I wished I had paid more attention to you. I guess I was in my own selfish world and couldn't see you as you were.

My vision is getting better now. Bright lights I can see but faces, they are still dark and blurry. I didn't dare go outside unless I had to. Seeing the world in the dark - night or day - seem scary. Dr. R told me it would take another month or two for my sight to completely return. His voice sounded so reassuring but it didn't make me feel any less pessimistic.

There's a new tenant across from me - a very nice lady with a somewhat heavy voice but very sweet. I couldn't see her face so I have no idea what she looked like. She often helped me with my laundry which seem to be the only thing I wanted to do. Fresh laundry had always brought back memories of our summers together. Anyway, this lady, called Joy, reminded me of you. I don't know what it is - just her presence brought some comfort to me, like you used to.



I held in my hand, the silver angel, your last Christmas gift to me, which I always wear around my neck. I knew, I hope, that you were watching over me. I leave you with your favorite song, Time After Time, it seem to summed up my mood this year. Here's hoping you are having a joyful holiday wherever you are. Maybe one day we'll find each other.

lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,
and think of you
caught up in circles
confusion is nothing new
flashback, warm nights
almost left behind
suitcases of memories,
time after

sometimes you picture me
I'm walking too far ahead
you're calling to me, I can't hear what you've said
then you say, go slow
I fall behind
the second hand unwinds

if you're lost you can look and you will find me
time after time
if you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting
time after time

after my picture fades and darkness has turned to gray
watching through windows you're wondering if I'm OK
secrets stolen from deep inside
the drum beats out of time

if you're lost you can look and you will find me
time after time
if you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting
time after time

you said go slow
I fall behind
the second hand unwinds

if you're lost you can look and you will find me
time after time
if you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting
time after time

time after time...

Isabelle


Read part 8 here.