Love Letters to Anne

I was awakened by the phone call. I had programmed my phone with her name just in case, and now was the moment of truth. My phone was ringing. I was compelled to pick it up. I heard her voice on the outside of the womb for the first time in my life...

What a moment. I wanted to tell her all the things; I wanted to ask her all the things. We danced like porcupines kissing: moving forward carefully. We did a give and take with our information and our stories. As I talked to her, I wanted to make sure she knew that I was not angry. I had come to value my life and all of the twists and turns both good and bad. It has been an incredible life, so I thanked her.

We would continue to talk everyday after that. For hours at a time. Sometimes for six or eight hours straight. It was like time traveling. We would only pause our conversations enough for me to talk with my step-daughter who would get home from school in the afternoon and give me all the juicy tea of her day. But after this, it was back to momma.

I was consumed, as was she, in learning all we could about each other. We exchanged our pictures, and finally I saw her, my momma. It was a surreal experience. But I let it happen as it unwound.

I was very prolific during this period in my writing. I had been writing a few blogs for the past few years. Poems, social justice pieces, anything that The Muse brought…as the world was falling apart from Covid, we were growing closer together. I started a blog for her. I began exploring my feelings in a much deeper way.

I had forgiven the world for the most part. I resisted the urge to dismay at all the lost time. Momma was alive and she wanted to talk with me. And as far as I could tell, she not only wanted to talk, but she also seemed to like me. This was truly an astral alignment. I had been ready for anything, but this was my dream come true.

This was a manifestation beyond hope. The love I had held for her, the love I had held out for, was suddenly pouring out of me. As it did, I processed all the feelings and allowed them to come over me. I was healing on the inside.

Still, a sadness of what I lost along the way…spending nights with cousins, holidays, grandparents. But as this new turn of events unfolded, new opportunities arose. There was extended family, cousins, aunts, uncles.

What dream was I living?

Grasp this: Everything I wanted was here. I could finally begin my life. I knew not only who I am, but where I came from. Blood.

Blood is different for me. I was denied this growing up. My clan was stolen from me due to circumstances beyond anyone’s control really, but now I had all these things and found a welcoming family. A loving family. My family. I belonged somewhere for the first time in my life.

And all of it came through the phone line. A magical device that brought our distances together again. What technological sorcery? The DNA, the Internet, Computers, Databases. All of these things I had to know, or learn to get to this moment. I never get enough of it.

We began talking of when and how we could meet. We couldn’t wait to see each other, to hold each other, to just reach out and be able to really touch one another. All these things were coming. The plans coming through the phone lines.

We would meet for Thanksgiving. That would be three months from when I first contacted momma.