P.S. I Love You

When I was a child I was an avid reader. I would ride my bike to the bookmobile and fill up the basket with as many books that would fit. After I read every book in that traveling mobile (my mother didn’t believe me at first but after pulling random books off the shelf to test me), she would drop me off at the library each weekend where I would stay for hours. I read thousands of books and remember these stories like old friends and the adventures feel as if they were my own journeys. There is one story that has always stuck with me, but I can’t remember the title of the book

It’s the story of a young girl, this I remember. Her mother died and her father remarried a woman with a few kids, it’s fuzzy on if they were boys or girls. But she didn’t fit in and her father blamed her for feeling isolated. Betrayed, she ran away from home and faced many challenges. There was fire and brimstone and hailstones, which at the time, didn’t occur to me was heavily steeped in Christian ideology. Despite her betrayal, she would write letters to her father, and would sign each one, “P.S. I love you.” Eventually she came home, realizing that was where her heart was. But she was forever changed by her experiences in the world.

I think of this story so often. Sometimes I wonder if it was just dream or something I made up. When I read this book, I was maybe nine or 10 years old, living in Missouri, in a community where I didn’t fit. I was by no means an orphan in my family of 7, but as a middle child, my isolation ran deep. The world bully didn’t exist then. The kids that went out of their way to make you not fit in, now try to befriend you on Facebook and are oblivious to the role they played your life.

What is it about this character that keeps coming back to me.

I would give anything to read the book again, to see if I relate to it in the same way I did as a child. But as hard as I’ve tried, I can’t find it anywhere. The title of the book, the name of the author, even the character name have slipped away. The only thing that remains clear is “P.S. I Love You” but when I search those details only romantic novels come up.

This courageous character showed me how to be brave, first by leaving home but even more so in her decision to return. I chose to leave home at the age of 18 for college. I didn’t fit in there either, so I transferred to a school in NYC. My parents said I couldn’t but with miles between us, I found the courage to do it anyway. My father stopped talking to me for awhile. Years later, he would tell me that he thought I was brave. But at the time, he wouldn’t come to the phone when I called. I would whisper, P.S. I love you, when I hung up heartbroken. I never returned home because my heart wasn’t there.

It’s funny how details of a book stay with you. All of the identifying details are gone but I remember so clearly how she felt as she slipped out the window and into the night. The pain and struggle of climbing over the brick wall and running through the muddy field as the hail came down around her. The fear of hiding on a boat as she set sail on an adventure with no destination. The sense of longing with each letter to her father and the sadness of knowing she would never receive a reply.

This mystery character made me realize that no matter what you do in your life, if you need to believe in something, let it be in yourself. If you do, you’ll live happily ever after.

At the time, I read this book, I had no idea of the affect it would have on me. I closed the book and put it on my bedside table where it would soon be replaced with another.

Inspiration does not always show itself right away. A light, a memory, a sound so soft, will find its way back to you when you need it the most.