Jackson Hunt

Dear Mom.

Hi mom. It’s been awhile. Ever since you breathed life into me on that cold Thursday in 1995, you knew there was something special about me. It was something that you kept a secret, something you held dear to the most intimate parts of your soul, but you raised me in a way that we’d agreed upon the moment that I came into your life in the form of a simple strong plus on an at-home test. My life wasn’t going to be easy. I wasn’t going to grow up with all the bells and whistles of children in my peer group. I was going to be strong-headed, highly sensitive, emotional, and passionate yet slightly behind in sociability; everything that you told yourself that your first-born was going to be but everything that you knew that you or my father couldn’t nurture for long.