Work Text:
My dear, dear daughter,
I think, for once in my life, I want to be honest. I don’t know how to elevate this note from our timeless duels of passive-aggressive faux-sentiment, but as I write, they all seem so irrelevant. If you do not believe me, a thought for which I would not blame you, then I implore you to keep this note, and, perhaps in time, come to trust its contents.
I cannot seem to decide where to begin, but I guess a confession is as good a place as any. I’ve read your writings – or at least, the parts you shared with the world. I say this not because it is a mother’s prerogative, but because it is the truth: I am your biggest fan. Your work has inspired me as a writer, as a warrior, and as a parent. I never told you, somewhat in fear of your disbelief, but speaking more honestly, out of fear of revealing any true fact about myself. In the end, though, I love them. Thanks for the adventures.
Sometimes, I have been so very angry at you. Looking back, I cannot understand why we fought as we did. Some of the things you did have hurt me deeply, deeper than any blade or claw. And there is no doubt in my mind that I have done the same to you. I did not ask for the responsibility of raising you. But I promise you this: I would not trade that responsibility for anything in the world, and I will brave the worst reality has to offer in order to keep you safe.
You’ve grown so fast. And yet, you will soon have to grow up even faster. You’re strong, though. I Know you can do it. To borrow the words of another, I am so very proud of you.
If the universe owes me any favors, I will trade them all for this wish: after all is said and done, that I might see you one more time, and that we understand each other once again.
Trust your friends, and help them.
Be splendid. Be vicious. Be happy. You’ll see me again. I’m sorry. And I forgive you. And I will always, always love you. Even then. Even now.
-Rose