I looked down.
Written across the front in faded blue ink were the words:
To be opened by Emma when she’s ready.
I held the envelope without opening it.
Somewhere inside was a piece of a life I had never known existed.
“You don’t have to read it now,” Mom said softly.
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.
