Example 1: From a sister and maid of honor, heartfelt with humor, about one page
425 words
Dear Leila,
It's your wedding morning, and I'm writing this before the hair and makeup and the chaos begin. I wanted a quiet minute with you, even if it's only on paper.
I keep thinking about our old bedroom in Dearborn. The masking tape down the middle of the carpet. You crossed that line every single day to borrow my clothes, and I acted outraged every single time. We fought like crazy. Somewhere along the way, the fighting turned into you being the first person I call about everything, usually while you're driving home from work. I would not trade those calls for anything.
Do you remember picture day when you were twelve? You cut your own bangs the night before. They were a disaster. I stayed up until 1 a.m. with a YouTube tutorial and Mom's sewing scissors, trying to fix them. We laughed so hard that Dad banged on the wall. That photo is still on the fridge, and I hope it never leaves.
And I remember when I had my appendix out in grad school. You drove four hours on a weeknight with a bag of my favorite pistachios. Then you slept on my floor for three nights. That's who you are.
You are brave in a quiet way. You switched careers at 29 to become a nurse. You studied at Mom and Dad's kitchen table every night after your shift at the bank, and you never once complained. You also remember every birthday, every allergy and every kid's name in our huge family. I don't know how you do it. I'm just so proud of the woman you became.
I'll admit I'm thrilled and a tiny bit sad. You've been my roommate, my shadow and my best friend, and now you're building your own home. But look who you're building it with. Sam is calm, kind and patient. He laughs at your terrible puns. He learned Mom's lentil soup over a video call so he could make it for you when you had the flu. You two split the Sunday crossword down the middle, just like we used to split our room. I think the tape would approve.
I hope your home is loud and full of people, the way ours was. My advice is simple. Never go to bed hungry and angry at the same time. And always pick up when Mom calls.
One last thing. The spare room at my place is yours whenever you want it. No tape required.
With all my love,
Your big sister, forever.
Nadia
What the writer told Toastful to get this letter
- Writer
- Nadia, maid of honor to the bride
- Relationship
- Leila is my little sister, three years younger, and I'm her maid of honor. We shared a bedroom in our parents' apartment in Dearborn until I left for college, with a strip of masking tape down the middle of the carpet that she crossed constantly to borrow my clothes. We fought like crazy as kids. Now she's the first person I call about everything, usually on her drive home from work.
- What works
- She's brave in a quiet way. She switched careers at 29 to become a nurse, studied at our parents' kitchen table every night after her shift at the bank, and never once complained. She also remembers every birthday, every allergy and every kid's name in our very large extended family.
- About today
- I'm thrilled and a tiny bit sad. She's been my roommate, my shadow and my best friend, and now she's building her own home. I want her to know the spare room at my place is still hers whenever she wants it, and that I'm so proud of the woman she became.
- Stories
- When Leila was 12, she cut her own bangs the night before school picture day and they were a disaster. I stayed up until 1 a.m. with a YouTube tutorial and our mom's sewing scissors trying to fix them, and we laughed so hard our dad banged on the wall. The photo is still on our parents' fridge. And when I had my appendix out in grad school, she drove four hours on a weeknight with a bag of my favorite pistachios and slept on the floor of my dorm for three nights.
- Partner Thoughts
- Sam is calm, kind and very patient, and he laughs at all her terrible puns. He learned to make our mom's lentil soup over a video call with her so he could make it for Leila when she had the flu. They split the Sunday crossword down the middle, just like we used to split our room.
- Wishes
- I hope their home is loud and full of people, the way ours was growing up. My advice: never go to bed hungry and angry at the same time, and always pick up when Mom calls.
- Extras
- She calls me Nads. Our inside joke is the masking tape line. Sign off: 'Your big sister, forever. Nadia.'