Janet Carson left home 5 years ago. The lasting and indomitable memory was of her father. He was ransacking her room as she watched helplessly, petrified as her worst nightmare unfolded. Her father's discovery of the self she took such great pains to hide. Her father knew her as Jeremy, a perpetually depressed teen who had little to bring him joy.

Her mother had passed away and her sister did not stay for too much longer. She had only her father. And now he rejected who she was in a fit of anger. He apologized for it and in a momentary glint she thought he accepted her. No. The cut was too deep, she had to go. She moved on with her life, met a man that loved her for who she was. He insisted she resolve her past.

Could she forget about the yesterday she left behind? Could she reconcile with her only connection to her past? The maroon envelope in her hand, she stared at it. All the rest had gone the day before. She held it so tightly over the open slot of the mailbox. Not wanting to let it go. Would he come? Would he see her as the beautiful woman she had become. Would he give her away to the man she so cherished? She drew in a deep breath and let the maroon envelope fall. The wait begins.

What if we didn't have yesterday? She thought. No past to run from. Just here, now, and tomorrow. "Honey, are you ready?" Harold Lopes places his hand on the shoulder of his fiancée. She curls around to face him, his hand never leaves her. They fall comfortably in an embrace, "Yes my love, let's go home."

Kyle Carson felt his finger drag along the seal to the envelope. The flap released its hold on the treasure inside. The names on the return address flooded his heart with something that had eluded him for 5 years. Hope. Five years since the last ounce of it had evaporated into ether. Were he honest with himself, Kyle would have realized that hope wasn’t the reason he was empty. Hope was all he clung to when his wife died, his eldest daughter left, and finally the son who never was, left as the daughter he never met. Janet.

Kyle pushed open the flap to the envelope. Grasped the card-stock and unsheathed it. The cursive on the face of the card was delicately written. The strokes thin, effortless and romantic. The ampersand which appeared scrawled ornately suggested the invitation was scribed, not typeface. This was her hand. The girl he only knew by what she left behind. Kyle recalled the album and an introductory-farewell letter scribed in the same gentle cursive.

Tears formed in his eyes as he remembered how he drove her out of his life. Time, it seems, had her inviting him into hers. His hands trembled as he pushed open the card. He hoped that the invitation would bring them close again. When the tears that filled eyes fell and his vision cleared… nothing. He flipped the card to the reverse. Again, nothing but clean stock.

Hope drove him to search the envelope, perhaps instructions were enclosed. Again, nothing. He scanned the card once more, manically trying to find some clue to her whereabouts. All he had, were the two names Janet Carson and Harold Lopes.