My brother ran away from home

My brother ran away from home. Unlike most who do that sort of thing, though, he waited until he had passed the half century mark to make his escape. We have a vague idea that he is on the west coast somewhere. Washington state presumably. Letters, notes, general queries and pleas concerning his well being were initially answered, if curtly, but are not anymore. Letters sent are not returned. So he either gets them, reads them, and doesn’t respond ( or maybe he doesn’t read them at all, maybe he just recognizes the return addresses and tosses them in the trash like junk mail) or somebody else at that address does something similar, if for different reasons.

We don’t really know why he left, except that, or so it seems to me, from the end of high school onward he seemed to have lost any enjoyment he might ever have known of living.

We hope that by leaving he has managed somehow to reinvent himself to the extent that he has rediscovered some enjoyment in life or has at least deluded himself into believing he has rediscovered that enjoyment.

We of course hope he returns someday. I personally hope he returns happy, or at the very least content. But I would be happy to see him no matter his condition.

But maybe, and this could be a good thing, for him, sad for us, he’s happy where he is and never plans to return.