I miss her already, but I know it was all for the best. I probably should have consulted, at the very least, my Priest, if not my horoscope, but so be it. She is gone. I have given my first born over to a happy home, and I know it was the right thing to do.
I know that she is in more-than-capable hands. And I also think her new Mother, who I'm told is relatively New Media savvy will probably read this, and maybe, just maybe, share it with her one day. When she's old enough to TRY to understand, I'd like to think. But that, of course is completely up to fate. If she ever wants to contact me, when she's say, 13 and wants to know the truth. I'll be willing to at least meet for a coffee. I'll find five minutes. Or so. So, here it is:
I loved you, and still do, but my circumstances prevented me from giving you the joy, love, and attention you deserve. It breaks my heart, but I knew at the time that you would be better off in a more loving home.
I filled you with Pat Conroy's marshy melodies the moment you came to me. If you have a particular penchant for the low country, that's me. That's you. That's us. I will never forget holding you in my hands and reading our stories. YOUR stories became mine.
But the time came for you to go. For me to let you go. I hope you understand. I hope you have a good life with the lady I left you with. You should have seen her face light up when she first saw you. I knew then I had made the right decision. For you. For us.
And now the hard part:
Kindle: you have a sister. She looks so much like you, except, well, graphite. And smaller. I know you'll find this troubling and/or confusing, but know this much is true: You were first.
I let you go, but I never left you alone. I pray you are happy. I understand if you are angry, but should you choose to contact me at some point, well, that's up to you and your new family.
Michael, your amazonDad.