I keep your secrets. 

I see you Momma, I really do, even if I don’t understand you. We’re here in our home because you chose this. You are my mother not by accident but by the power of will. Signed and sealed, adoption made us mother and daughter. But you don’t always want me, and I don’t know why.

You hide. From me. From you. Pills and bottles are your comforts. Not me. Not Daddy. The only gift I can give you is myself. But you cannot see me, and I don’t know why.

I feel alone even when I’m not. I draw and build things in my room, but not with you. Lincoln Logs, Legos, Spirographs, and an Easy Bake Oven surround me. My room is a sanctuary of my own creation. Our dog, Bootsy, is my best friend. We play every single one of the Disney albums you bought me for Christmas. I sing and dance around in my make-believe world and know every word by heart. 

The air in our home is heavy. A quiet so complete it stifles the breath. Walking through the door is diving into the ocean, fathoms below the surface. Can you breathe, Mommy? Our home is airy and sunny with lots of windows, but the light doesn’t reach you. I love you yet I am not enough. And I don’t know why.

I have a bright light. I shine it everywhere I go. How come my light can’t reach you? 

Other people see it, but you can’t see me. I’ll keep your sadness and your secrets safe, just like I do with mine. Secrets are safe in the dark. I’ll dim my light just a little, so you’ll stay. Maybe you’ll love me and that can be enough, and my light can heal the darkness for you.

***

I am your secret. 

You gave birth to me and then gave me away. No one knows, do they? You traveled half-way across the country to have me, your baby girl. And then, because they made you give me up, you left me there. Each of us alone in this prison of shame. Me, because I’m a bastard. You, because you were a bad girl.

But inside of you lives me. And inside of me lives you. We’ll know one another forever, and yet not. We could close the gap across the darkness and let the light touch us. See each other. But that’s up to you. 

I’ve tried to open the door and shine my light. But you won’t see me, and I don’t know why.

I have a light. A bright light that shines big and bold and no one can take it from me. I think that maybe it came from you. I’ve tended it carefully through so many dark times. But just like my other mother, you turn away from it. Stay cloaked in the darkness of your self-imposed karma and refuse to meet me. Know me. And I don’t know why.

If dark and light dance around the sky to infinity, then I must believe that somewhere it will touch you. Touch my Momma who is gone and maybe someday make its way to you. I love you. I wish that were enough. That love could conquer all and light always wins over darkness. 

But I’m a grown woman now and know it’s not so simple. My light is my own and it can’t heal anyone else.

We are not simple. I am your secret, and an extension of your light. Someday I hope you open your heart to me, and together we explore all the places light can reach.