Sandra Collins, 61, shares her true life story:
I opened the letterbox and my stomach sank to see that it was empty.
Another day had passed with no word from my penpal, Jeannesse.
I’d been writing to her regularly for 14 years, since I was 13.
It had started when I’d seen her picture in the penpal section of music magazine, Teen World.
I promise to answer every letter, the smiling 13-year-old Jeannesse had written in her ad.
I’d always enjoyed writing, so I decided to give it a try.
True to her word, Jeannesse’s replies always came hurtling back within weeks.
Reading her missives about being a teenager in America brightened my day.
I started to think of her as the sister I didn’t have.
Only thing was, she lived in bustling New York while I was growing up in rural Queensland.
But despite the distance between us, Jeannesse and I were close.
We both married and became mums at a similar age and sent gifts to each other’s babies.
The magazine that started our friendship.
Later, Jeannesse told me how much her two daughters enjoyed the packets of Smarties which they couldn’t get over there.
Then, after more than 10 years and countless letters, Jeannesse simply stopped replying.
I had plenty of close friends in town, but I missed the intimacy of her letters.
Could she have died? I panicked.
After three hopeful years of waiting, I decided to send one more letter.
I’m writing because I’m worried for you, I began.
I haven’t heard from you in so long.
I signed off with a phone number.
Then, one afternoon weeks later, the phone rang.
“Everything’s all right,” an American woman soothed on the other end of the line.
My heart pounded with excitement realising this was Jeannesse!
I’d never heard her voice before.
She explained that she’d had some personal issues, but I didn’t press her further; I was simply glad that she was okay.
We started to write again regularly.
Oddly, our lives had mirrored each other.
We’d both married at the same age and were now divorced, single mums raising our kids alone.
When my son, Craig, was 10, I booked us a trip to the US.
Make sure you come to New York, Jeannesse wrote when I told her.
It didn’t seem real that we’d finally meet after 24 years of letters.
Holding Craig’s hand, we were walking through the arrivals area of the airport when Jeannesse saw us.
The tall woman in a striped pullover stood with her young daughter, waving excitedly.
Throwing our arms around each other, we made our way into the city and spent a week exploring.
Part of me had worried things might be different once we were face to face, but Jeannesse was so confident and funny that I felt completely at ease.
Our families
In fact, I missed her so much that I got back on the plane four years later so we could meet again!
By now Jeannesse had heard so much about Australia that she yearned to see my country.
“You’d love it here,” I told her.
So this year when she retired from her nursing job, Jeannesse flew over with her two daughters and grandson.
For nine days we explored Queensland, swimming at the beaches, marvelling at the Aussie fauna and stuffing ourselves with fish and chips.
Later, when it was just the two of us, Jeannesse took out one of the first letters I’d sent her.
“Read it out loud,” she said.
I’m so anxious to get your letters, I read, looking over the crinkled paper.
It was covered in my teenage handwriting, recounting what I’d done at school and on weekends.
Me and Jeannesse
It was all pretty innocent, but we laughed at the memories we’d shared 48 years earlier.
Jeannesse insists I return to the US to see her again.
Now we’re older I’m not sure we can handle flying such long distances, but it’s great to know Jeannesse is just a letter away.
