Dear Mama,

I’ve always wanted to call someone “mama” and have it be true. “Mom” puts so much distance between a mother and daughter. You don’t know me, and I’ve only dreamt about you since I was four. Only. If I could find you, I think it would make a world of a difference.

I don’t think about you as much as I did, and I don’t know if you can miss what you’ve never had. In my case, someone I’ve never met.

I wonder if I have your eyes. My eyes look bigger because I have “the flap”. Do you have the flap? Are you happy and loud like I was as a kid? Or more quite and reserved, like I am now?

There’s so much I don’t know, so much I could learn about myself too. I just need one conversation. Closure. Do you play any instruments? Coffee or tea or matcha? Dogs or cats? Are you a short freak like me? Is your hair so thick it could be a certified gym rope?

Why didn’t you give me a chance? Why did you toss me to the side?

I need to know…

I need to know.

Mama, are you even alive?