“So you watched from a distance.”
I spent my whole life mailing letters to the address tied to my missing mother, always clinging to hope—until I finally received a reply that devastated me.
She looked at the letters.
“Yes.”
“That’s not motherhood. That’s not family.”
A few envelopes were still sealed.
“No,” she said.
“It isn’t.”
That answer hit harder than an excuse would have.
I pulled another bundle closer.
A few envelopes were still sealed.
One was from three years ago.
