Dear D.,

I miss you all the time. You used to be the sister that I felt connected to, the one that understood frustration with our other siblings and parents. We were the closest geographically, and the closest in our interests.

Somewhere along the line, I became less useful to you, though, and you have closed the gate. I have wished that we could exchange emails, but you never answer. Pictures, recipes, whatever; it is connection.

You very rarely call me, and it is never to just catch up. You never accept invitations to come to our home and very rarely agree to go anywhere with me. A trip to the fabric store was all about what you needed. You could have cared less about my projects.

When I turned 60, I faced a variety of crises alone. It was stunningly painful to realize that I didn’t have a sister.

I wish that I had a sister that valued me, was interested in what I was doing, my welfare. I wish that you understood that phone lines do actually work to my house, and that the roads work in both directions.

I miss the old D.

Sister J, age 61