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Letter To My Daughter
This is a letter to my daughter – if I had one, that is. But I don’t. So, this letter is to her, the daughter I might have had, and also to those young ladies I have known over the years who I have felt were like daughters to me.
My daughter’s name would have been Chantal-Marie, should she have been born. I suppose I could have had her, but life took its course and time slipped away. I was too busy mothering myself, I think, and I couldn’t have mothered her, in retrospect. But hindsight isn’t always 20:20 – don’t let anyone fool you.
So here goes. Strangely enough, I feel as though I were on the edge of a precipice as I write this. It is a most unexpected feeling. Continue reading