PAULETTE RAMSAY
30 June 1971
Dear Aunt Jen,
Today I sat and thought about you for a long, long time. I thought about how strange it is that you’re my mother and I am your daughter and you are there and I am here and we don’t know each other and if I came to England or if you came to Jamaica we would pass each other on the streets and you would not know me and I would not know you . . . We would pass each other and not know that we are flesh and blood. That is really strange.
I tried to picture you sitting in your house in England. I can barely see a body. Maybe it’s a body like Ma’s, only a little younger. Maybe it’s a body like mine, only older. It’s very hard to see a picture of you in my mind. I can’t see a face. I tried to imagine the face of a lady who looks like Uncle Roy and Uncle Johnny but it’s not working. I tried to picture a lady who looks like me, as Uncle Eddy said, but that does not work either. It’s like trying to see my own face in a dirty mirror. I’m still hoping you will send me a photograph of yourself.
Your daughter
Your dau
Sunshine