Dear Mother:

It’s been such a long time since we’ve talked, hasn’t it? Why, don’t you recognize me? It’s your daughter, the daughter you once dreamed you’d have. I’d gone away for a long time, but I’m finally going to come back. Isn’t it great? I’m really excited too you know. So many things I’ve missed out on, it’s going to take a long time for me to properly catch up on it all.

First though, I’d like to apologize. I left you all on your own, with a little girl that you didn’t want in the first place. You must’ve cried for days. You must’ve talked in your sleep, crying out for me. Oh where is she, where is that beautiful girl who was once mine? Where did she go? I loved her so. And here I am now, left with a little girl who I didn’t want in the first place. I know. I’m sorry Mother. It must’ve hurt so much, and I wish I could take away that pain now.

But I know you tried. I know you made do with what you had. You really did try to love this girl that wasn’t yours, didn’t you? You dressed her in frills and curled her hair and tied ribbons here and there. You sent her to the best school in town, and she made you proud when teachers would tell you how gifted she was. You’d always hug her and kiss her cheeks and tell her how much you adored her. And this little girl loved you too. She loved you because you were her mother.

Sometimes though…sometimes things weren’t always as they seemed. Sometimes, this little girl would make mistakes, sometimes she’d do the wrong things at the wrong time, or she might’ve lacked some common sense. And it was those times that you realized that as hard as you might try, this wasn’t the little girl you wanted. This wasn’t your little girl, the one you had some years before. Your little girl wouldn’t make these stupid mistakes. Your little girl would always do the right things, and she’d always say the right things. It wasn’t your fault you were left with this little girl that wasn’t yours. So it was alright that you’d lose your temper at her. It was alright that you’d tell her how she always messes up.

But then you’d realize your own mistake, how you broke the never-ending charade. And you’d look at this little girl, tears streaked down her face, and you’d hug her and apologize and tell her it wasn’t her fault and how you really do love her. How you loved this girl that wasn’t yours to begin with. You’d do this because you hoped that your real daughter would come back someday, and in the meantime, you’d need to care for this girl as best as you could.

It got harder as the years went on though, right? This little girl started to grow up, and she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She was a teenage girl now. And she started to think for herself. She no longer wanted to dress in frills, or have her hair curled, or have ribbons tied there and here. She wanted to go out and have fun, she wanted to have friends, she gave up dancing and singing, and she decided for herself what it meant to be happy. And she disappointed you so many times, didn’t she? She’d disappoint you when she came home and said that she’d dropped out of dance class for good. She no longer wanted to be a doctor or lawyer; now she wanted to act and throw away her life on useless things like drawing and writing. So much intelligence and beauty, and she kept throwing it away. She no longer wanted to hold your hand, and she no longer wanted your help.

And that’s how it started to get harder to keep up the charade. Because since she could no longer imitate your real daughter, her mistakes were bigger and worse than before. And you’d yell louder, and you’d tell her how she wasn’t good for anything and how you wished she could be better, because that was the truth, wasn’t it? You didn’t want to hide it anymore, because keeping up the charade was tiring now. Watching your daughter dress in ripped-up jeans and t-shirts and Converse sneakers, her hair dyed bright red, acting her heart out, listening to rebellious music, playing guitar and letting her dancing figure and singing voice disappear, you realized that this girl could never be your little girl.

You’d cry out for your little girl at night louder and louder again. Why aren’t you here, dammit?! Why have you left me here with this replacement? Why have you left me here with this girl, so disappointing and just not who I wanted?

I’m sorry Mother. I was there the whole time though. I was watching quietly, silently, in secret, so you wouldn’t see me. I couldn’t let you see me though. Maybe if I’d let you, things wouldn’t be so hard for you right now, would they? But where has the time gone I wonder. I’d like to think that time gets stuffed into a box, and whenever you need more, all you do is open it and get a little more. If that’s the case, I wonder where our boxes are. I’m sure you’d like to get some if you could find your box too.

She finished high school, and you were proud then. She graduated with top honors, the pride of her teachers. But she didn’t want to go on to be a doctor or a lawyer. She left to become an actress, to live for the stage and crowd. How could she do this? How could she throw away her chances of being smart and successful, by diving into a profession that had no hope or future? It made her so very happy though. It wasn’t enough for your happiness though. You’d ask her over and over, why can’t you do anything right? Why aren’t you good for anything or anyone? Look at how fat you are since you stopped dancing, hear at how you can’t carry a tune anymore, and look at me, tired and old and wondering where I went wrong with this little girl who wasn’t supposed to be mine.

That girl’s gone now though. Because, on one day, she finally realized that she wasn’t your daughter. She finally understood why nothing she did was ever enough. She cried when she realized that. I wanted to be your daughter, I wanted to be the person you wanted me to be, but I just couldn’t seem to do it no matter how hard I tried. That’s what she told me that day. The day that she decided to no longer stay, when she got up and left the woman who refused to accept that this was her daughter. Because that girl was me. I was your daughter. I hadn’t gone anywhere. I was her the whole time. But you spent so much time wishing for your real daughter to come back that by the time I left, you didn’t even notice. She and I were no longer important, because you could never see us.

And now I’m going to come back home Mother. I’ve tried all this time since I left to become the daughter you always wanted, and now I finally am. I dress in frills, I curl my hair, and I tie ribbons here and there and everywhere. I sing and I dance and I became that doctor and lawyer you wanted me to be. I’m back Mother. I can’t get up anymore, though. I’m confined to this coffin, still as stone, and cold as ice. I’m all the things you once wanted me to be though. It’s too bad I can’t show it all to you now.

Even though I wasn’t the daughter you wanted, your daughter, I still loved you Mother. I’m sorry that I can’t say it to you now. I’m sorry I couldn’t be yours. I’m sorry that I just couldn’t. Will you forgive me now? Will you love me now? That’s all I really wanted you know, for you to love me the way I am. Maybe now that I can’t move anymore you might just do that. Don’t worry Mother. Even if I can’t show it, I’ll be watching you now. And if you tell me that you love me, I’ll hear you, even if you can’t hear me when I say those words back.

I’m back home Mother. Welcome me back. Welcome home, sweet daughter of mine. I knew you’d come back to me someday. Welcome home.

Yours truly,

Your daughter