To my dearest Mom—
You died a long time ago--a long, long time ago. You died before we had a chance to become real friends. You died and took your life’s story to the grave. There are no photos of you as a baby or a child or a young woman—only photos of you as an adult. The only family story you ever told me from your childhood was a sad and sorrowful one. You never told us anything about your early life—and I didn’t ask. Now I can never ask. There is no one left that I can ask, about anything from your life. Who were you? What were your dreams? What did you think when you and Dad brought me home from the adoption agency? Was I really what you wanted? I think so—I felt it sometimes. But I don’t really know. I will never really know...
_______________________________________________________________________________ Copyright 2023 Mary M. Isaacs (from a forthcoming book)
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