Dear Parvati,
I honestly don't know what to put into these letters anymore. I'm so far removed from that young women who lost you, sometimes I just stare at the parchment and wonder how I'm supposed to be able to write to you. It's been over 40 years since you left, and the words have never been harder to put down to you.
Sometimes I wonder how I could have gone so far without you. I'm so different from the girl who lost her twin, and wrote these letters since they granted her a little peace, and let her sleep for a few hours undisturbed. Now I sleep through the whole night, and wake up with my husband by my side and my grandkids on my mind.
I laugh freely, worry a lot, and make sure that when everyone comes over, we have enough food. Erin's kids come over almost daily, and the other Parvati, my youngest granddaughter, begs me for stories about you.
The distance between us seems overwhelming, but your still here. Even throughout the years, I still feel your absence, still nagging me, making me smile when I tell a story about you.
You would be amazed at how the lack of any real news destroys any attempts at letter writing. This letter has been sitting on my desk for the past two months, and i still only have a few words to say to you.
My life is so boring, so mundane, that I can't imagine trying to tell it to you without you getting bored out of your mind. And yet, I still want to talk to you again. Just one more time, and that would be enough to put me at ease.
I just wish that I knew what to fill these letters with these days. I'm happier than I've ever been, but happy is so boring, I can't manage to put it down in parchment without groaning. But surrounded by my children and their children, I feel content.
I guess that I really just wanted to write this letter to let you know that you're still on my mind. It's been so long between letters, if you were alive I know you would kill me.
Yours forever,
Padma