The Letter by Abagail Kovacs

Note: This piece is written from the perspective of a fictional character, Hazel Antonio — a quiet girl learning to carry what no one else sees.

"The Letter"

When I was little, I used to think my mom was a magician. 

She always knew how to make everything better. When I scraped my knee, she would wave her hand, and the pain would go away. When I was scared of the dark, she’d tell me stories about faraway lands where the dark was just a curtain, hiding treasure.

But now, I don’t know where she went.

I haven’t seen her in weeks. She calls sometimes, but it’s never the same. It’s like she’s somewhere far away, and I’m not even sure she knows who I am anymore.

My dad keeps saying that “We’ll figure it out,” but he never does. He doesn’t talk about her much. He says things like, “She’s just having a hard time,” or “She’ll be back when she’s ready.”

But I don’t think she’s coming back. Not the way she was.

I wrote her a letter. I don’t know if I’m ever going to send it. Maybe I’ll put it in a box, like everything else. I’ll keep it with all the other things that never quite make sense.

Maybe she’ll read it one day, when she’s not so busy. 

Maybe she’ll remember me.