There was an hour before lunch. No activities were planned for right now so Sandra just sat by herself in one of the pseudo-living room areas of the care home. The television was on but the sound was off. She ignored it. She didn’t care much for television anyway. It was all superheroes and explosions these days.

“Why can’t they make one where the people just talk?” she asked, though no one was around.

She pulled an old letter from her pocket. It was faded and wrinkled but clearly unopened.

“You enjoyed those movies, Jules” she said to the letter.

Her solitary conversation drew the attention of one of the nurses who came over and tapped Sandra on the shoulder.

“How are you Sandra?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Sandra replied, and then added after leaning forward and reading his name tag, “how are you, Jon?”

“It’s another day in paradise,” he beamed in that professional, I-have-to-be-cheery way. “What do you have there?” he asked when he noticed the letter.

She wondered if they’d had this conversation before. It was an unfortunate byproduct of aging that she forgot things like that from time to time.

“I used to have a pen pal when I was a girl,” Sandra explained, gesturing with the letter. “We’d write each other every week. Then Jules was in an accident and died. This is the last letter I ever got from her.”

“You never read it?” he asked, noting the fact that it was unopened.

“No, if I did then that would be the end of it. This way, I always have one last letter to look forward to. Some day I’ll read it.”

“There’s no time like the present,” Jon said and moved on to check in on other residents.

Sandra started to put the letter way but then stopped. Most of the time when she thought of this letter, it was to talk to it as though it were her friend. She hardly ever considered reading it, though now she was struck with that wonder. What she hadn’t told Jon was that this letter was postmarked the week after her friend’s death. The handwriting on the envelope looked like Jules’ handwriting, so perhaps it was written and addressed, but not sent out until after the funeral. It was possible her family had sent it along, but why not just give it to her at the funeral.

All these years, Sandra had let the question lie, preferring instead to know she had one last letter left to read. Why not read it now? She was old and didn’t have much time left if her doctors were to be believed. She wanted to put the letter away and dismiss the silly idea but it wouldn’t leave her alone and soon her hands were shaking with anticipation as she looked more and more intently at the letter.

She slipped one finger into the envelope and began to break the old glue that had held it shut for all these years. Her heart was racing and her breathing was coming ins shallow gulps as her anxiety and excitement grew. All these years she’d carried this letter around, and here she was about to finally read it. It was like Christmas or her birthday or something. She felt she ought to really wait for a more important day but already her finger had broken the seal and the envelope was open.

Tenderly, she slid the letter out and unfolded it. The dry paper cracked along the seam and she had to be careful how she held it so it wouldn’t come apart.

“Oh dear,” she said as she tried to focus on the faded, handwritten letter. The cursive was a real test of her fading eyesight and no matter how close she held the letter she couldn’t make out the words.

“Need some help, Sandra?”

She looked up and a young woman, one of the nurses or possibly someone visiting a relative here, was standing beside the couch.

“Oh, yes, here, could you read this to me?”

She held out the letter and the young woman took it, being careful not to damage it any further. She sat down beside Sandra and began to read.

“My dear friend, I’m so sorry for the sorrow of this past week, but I couldn’t leave you without one last letter. I’m technically breaking the rules by doing this, but what are rules for if not to be broken from time to time.”

Sandra chuckled despite herself, remembering the rebellious streak in her friend.

“I want you to know that I’m well. There was a bit of an extended family reunion when I got here and I can only imagine what it’ll be like for you after you live your life. That’s really what I want to tell you. Don’t forget to live life to its fullest. Chase your dreams. Love deeply. And don’t be afraid of going back for seconds.”

“I did,” Sandra found herself saying through tears. “I tried.”

“I got a letter to my parents, too, so don’t think I forgot about them. They’ll be alright, but if you see them, say hi. Maybe write them a letter from time to time. I know they’d appreciate hearing how you’re doing. They always loved when I shared bits of your letters with them.”

Sandra held back a sob, regretting that she’d never done that for her friend.

“It’s okay if you didn’t,” the young woman went on. “They turned out just fine and joined me some years ago.”

“We were neighbors before my family moved away and we became pen pals. Her parents were very sweet,” Sandra felt like she needed to explain and the young woman nodded.

“I thought I would miss our letters more than anything,” the young woman went on, “but you kept talking to me so it was almost like we never got interrupted. I could sit and listen to you talk to me for hours. I’d respond and sometimes it seemed like you understood. I hope you did. I hope you know I was here with you for much of the time, especially after my parents passed.”

The longer Sandra listened, the stranger the letter seemed. For one thing, Jules’ parents were still alive and well when this letter was written.

“Are you sure you’re reading that right?” she asked the young woman. “I know cursive can be tricky to read sometimes, especially if you aren’t used to it.”

The young woman smiled and patted Sandra on the knee.

“I’m sure,” she said and turned back to the letter. “If you ever change your mind about having kids, don’t name one after me. In fact, I hope you have all boys just so you can learn they all aren’t that bad.”

“Well Jules, I never changed my mind and never had kids,” Sandra nodded to herself.

“Do you ever wish you had?” the young woman asked.

“Oh, no. I never had that maternal instinct. Never felt the need or desire. Didn’t even get married. I had a fair number of flings in my time,” she laughed conspiratorially, “but never wanted to get tied down. I was too busy for any of that.”

“Whatever you do with your life,” the young woman read on, “I’m sure it’ll be amazing.. With love, Jules.”

Sandra leaned back, relaxing as the letter was finally done and she could add it to the box of letters she still kept in her room.

“I was worried I’d be disappointed now that it’s over,” Sandra said with a sigh, “but I’m glad. Thank you for reading it out for me.”

“Of course,” the young woman replied.

Sandra expected the young woman to get up and leave but she continued to just sit there, smiling pleasantly, almost expectantly, as though she knew Sandra and was waiting for her to remember.

“I’m sorry, but do I know you?” Sandra asked, worried that her memory had slipped again. Of all the ailments of old age, senility was the one that really scared her.

“Yes, but it’s alright if you’ve forgotten what I look like,” she grinned. “It’s been a long while since you last saw me.”

“Remind me of your name.”

“I’m Jules.”

Sandra sat there a moment, unable to believe what she’d heard. Then her childhood memories caught back up with her and she recognized her old friend at last. Excitement, then dread, welled up inside of her.

“Am I dead, then?” she asked. “Is that why you’re here?”

She didn’t feel dead. She was still breathing, could still feel her heart beating, and looking around she didn’t see any sign that she’d left her body.

“Not yet, you have some time,” Jules replied. “But I wanted to be here for when you read my letter.”

That was a relief. Although her life these days wasn’t the most engaging, she wasn’t quite ready to pass on.

“More rule breaking?” she asked.

“Just a little,” Jules replied with a wink. “I’m glad to see you turned out alright and that you’re happy.”

“It’s a quiet life these days,” Sandra agreed, “but I enjoy it. Three meals a day that I don’t have to cook, too. And there’s a gentleman down the hall from me who’s quite the charming.”

“Well write me a letter one of these days and tell me all about it. There’s plenty of things I still missed over the years” Jules said as she finally got up from the couch. “I’ve got to be going but I’ll be around.”

“Thank you again for this,” Sandra waved the letter at her. “It’s been a real joy to have.”

Jules turned and in an instant she was gone. There was still a half an hour before lunch and she figured that would be just enough time to get a letter started to her old friend.