I walked home slowly. Tennis was over, Grandpa had left, and my mom would be home from work soon. If only I could fast-forward to tomorrow, when I’d get the translated letter back. What did it say? What do you say to the daughter you sent away and would never see again? It must be that proper goodbye Anna craved. It was easier to do that sort of thing in a letter, where you could take your time and make sure you said things the right way, without getting interrupted or derailed by emotions.
That’s how it hit me: the ideal way to ask for my bat mitzvah present. While I waited for the letter from Anna’s mom, I’d sit down and write one to my own.
I went to my desk the minute I got home. I took out a sheet of loose leaf and pumped my mechanical pencil. From there, the words just came. I guess they’d been there all along, but stuck behind my lips. Now they jumped at the chance to escape through my hand.
Dear Mom,
I’m sorry for what I said when we were dress shopping. I know it hurt you, and that is the last thing I want to do. I’m so afraid of hurting you that I’ve been afraid to ask for my bat mitzvah present, even though I’ve wanted it for a long time. I want to find my biological family.
PLEASE keep reading the rest of this letter so you can know why I’m asking for this. It’s not because I don’t love you and Dad and Jaime and everyone else in our family. It’s not because I want to live with someone else. It’s not because I don’t realize how lucky I am to have you and a great life.
It’s only because there’s a big question mark inside me. Grandma Anna’s diary was like a window to our family history, and it only made me wonder more about mine. Where do my birth parents come from? Why did they place me for adoption? What race is my father? It’s hard to look different from your parents and everyone else in your town. It’s even harder if you don’t know why you look the way you do. I’ve been wondering in secret (and looking, but only just a little, I swear) because I know it upsets you. But I can’t help the wondering. The only thing that will stop me wondering is finding out.
I know it might be hard to find information about my birth parents, and I know what I find might be something bad or sad. But I still want to know. I am mature enough to handle it.
Since I’m under 18, I can’t do a real search without permission from you or Dad. But even if I could, I’d want to do this with you and Dad anyway because you’re my parents. No matter what I said when I was angry, you ARE my real mom. Learning about my biological past isn’t going to change that. I love you.
Love,
Imani
I read the letter five times. My plan was to rewrite it in pen, on nice stationery, but now that seemed inappropriate, like putting a frilly cushion on an execution chair. So I folded the piece of loose leaf in thirds, stuck it in an envelope, and wrote MOM on the front. I went into her room and placed it on her pillow.
Then I left for Madeline’s house before I could change my mind.