I looked at her.
“It waited thirty years. It can wait another day.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
I slid my finger beneath the flap.
“If I put it down now, I might become too afraid to pick it up again.”
Inside was one folded page.
The handwriting was slightly rushed but easy to read.
I unfolded it.
My dearest Emma,
If you are reading this, then life did not turn out the way I hoped it would.
I wanted to be the person who told you how deeply you were loved from the very beginning.
But if these words reached you instead of my voice, then I was not able to tell you myself.
There is one thing I need you to know above everything else.
None of what happened was your fault.
You were the greatest joy of my life.
From the first moment I held you, I loved you more than I knew it was possible to love another person.
Every future I imagined included you.
If another family has raised you, I hope they loved you with everything they had.
And please never believe that being loved by someone else means you were loved any less by me.
Love does not disappear simply because life changes.
I hope you grew up kind.
I hope you laughed often.
I hope you found people who made you feel safe and a place that felt like home.
And I hope you always knew you deserved to be loved.
Most of all, I hope you never believed you were unwanted.
You were wanted from the very beginning.
If the people who raised you loved you well, hold onto them.
They are your family.
Nothing about learning where you came from should take away from the people who stood beside you while you grew.
Maybe it simply means you were lucky enough to be loved twice.
I wish I could have watched you grow.
