stories about my sister megan, part 1: the code

When I was about eight years old or so, my sister Megan had had enough of my parents and their lack of respect and their favoritism towards the other sisters, and so she decided to run away. To the backyard. She had been on the lam for an hour or so when I received a note through the screen of my window. It read something like this:

Dear Sean: I'm in the back yard. I am running away. Mom and Dad are being jerks and I can't stand it. Write back.

P.S. Write back using code. A=1, B=2, C=3, OK?

Luckily, our communications were not intercepted by hostile forces that afternoon. Megan crossed the border back into the house once the heat died down and it was getting close to dinnertime.

Many years later, in the summer of 1997, our family was driving to my cousin Shannon's wedding in our minivan. A note was surreptitiously passed to where I was sitting in the back seat. It was from Megan.

Dear Sean: I'm in the front seat. I am running away from this wedding. Mom and Dad are being jerks and I can't stand it. Write back using code.

Megan is great. Happy 25th birthday, hippie.