Lynn’s “a” looks like mine. I hesitate for a second, pray, then open the envelop. Inside lies a folded card with artwork from the Met. Her handwritten message—written right-side to left—begins by thanking me for my “kindness.” Next, she comments on my “enlightened parents” and the importance of “good nurturing.”
Then she asks about my writing. Finally, she offers ways I may contact her. Email, although she checks from a public library computer once a week. A cell phone number—for a phone turned off during the day.
I lay the note aside. It’s aloof, almost business-like tone, with no mention of herself. Or how she felt about me. Not even a hint of explanation as to why she gave me up.
I wonder if I was better off leaving it in the envelop unread.
taken from her arms
cold comfort in cold words
on a museum card
Photo by Kelly Sikkema