The Christmas Letter That Didn’t Feel Real
When I opened the envelope, my hands were shaking.
I expected a bill. A warning. A mistake.
Not this.
It was a Christmas letter from Harriet.
My daughter.
The child I hadn’t seen or heard from in 13 years.
Her words hit me so hard I had to sit down.
Here’s what she wrote:
“Hi, Dad. I’ve finally found you!”
“This may come as a shock, but I’ll be flying in to see you tomorrow. We have so much to talk about.”
“Even though Mom and Eric provided me with everything growing up, I always wondered when you would come back.”
“Mom always told me you were a loser and I should forget about you, but I can see that you’ve changed.”
“Just so you know… I still have the stuffed bunny you left me for my birthday.”
“I named him Jimmy, so in a way, you’ve been with me all along.”
“See you soon. I love you. Merry Christmas, Dad.”
I read it twice.
Then a third time, just to make sure my brain wasn’t making it up.
She was coming.
Tomorrow.
After 13 years.
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