Chapter 17 - My Mother’s First Letter
Diane wrote every month from prison.
I ignored the letters for a year.
Then one arrived on my thirteenth birthday.
The envelope contained no excuse.
Only one sentence:
I chose keeping you over protecting you, and that choice harmed you more than losing you would have harmed me.
I read it twice.
Dad asked whether I wanted to respond.
“No.”
“That’s okay.”
“Do you think she means it?”
“Maybe.”
“Does that matter?”
“Only if it matters to you.”
I placed the letter in a drawer.
Months later, I wrote back.
I did not forgive her.
I told her I was safe.
I told her I knew about Emma.
I told her I would never carry her secrets for her.
She responded:
You shouldn’t.
That was the beginning of limited contact.
Not reconciliation.
Not a happy reunion.
A boundary.
She had to answer every question honestly.
If she lied once, I would stop writing.
May you like
For the first time in her life, Diane learned that access to someone was not guaranteed by love, blood, or history.
It was earned through truth.
