An awkward stare down between the two went on for a little while until Ms. Sillow’s eyes caught notice of a letter resting beside the boy’s feet. Seemingly aware of the affect her unsightly appearance was having on her young guest, she gingerly inched her way towards the letter, bent down with great agony, and scooped it up off of the doorstep, her crippled body quivering all the while. Once back in an upright position, she tore open the flap, pulled the letter out, and jolted her squinted eyes across the piece of paper, which read:
I know that you don’t know the young man standing before you right now, but his name is Presley Pirajon Sillow; and he’s your grandson. He was born on May 18, 1972, yet he has already outgrown my parenting capabilities. Besides, he’s always asking about you, so I thought it would be in his best if he spent some time with you.
I know that you and I have had our share of difficulties in the past, but I forgive you for everything, and I want to use this letter as an opportunity to apologize for any stress I ever may have caused you as a result of my decision to enter this world. But please look after the boy in better fashion than you looked after me. I know that dad placed a heavy burden on you, causing you to treat me the way that you did; but I’m quite sure he’s out of the picture now. I feel that I’m now in the same predicament that you were once in: my baneful drug addiction and a broken life’s compass have made me a very unsuitable caretaker. I really need your help with the rearing of my child while I take out some time to work on myself. Once I’m back on my feet, however, I will be back for my boy. In the meantime, I will call the house regularly to check up on him - once the phone number hasn’t been changed.
Your Loving Daughter,
P.S. I apologize for not being able to face you this morning. I’m really not in the best condition (physically or mentally). Hell, I don’t even know if you’re alive or not. But I couldn’t face the guilt of you thinking that I’m simply using you now after all these years. I know, shame on me.
Once the letter had clarified things for her, Ms. Sillow let it drift to the ground, hastily knelt down with seemingly no bit of discomfort impeding her movement this time, and drew the boy tightly into her bosom. With tears in her eyes, she forewarned him: “You’re my child now, and I’m never letting you go.”