On the corner of Regret Lane

3745 forget-me-not pl.

January 20th 2018, To the boy I left at the orphanage on Misery BLVD. 9:30pm on Monday. Monday, January 20th 1997.

I still remember everything.

I always thought that January was a depressing month. There's a noticeable break from the holidays, and nothing to embrace the cold weather. I waited to see if they would answer the door before you caught a cold, I even waddled you in three blankets so you stayed warm in the basket on their doorstep.

You were born September 15th 1996. Your milky brown, deliqate soft skin was magnificent, and left me to wonder what had made such a heavenly baby boy, the fighting, the crying, the stress, he left. But you, you were serine, calm, and beautiful. Now, I wonder if I’ve done to you what he did to me all those years ago. He never came to see you, and you probably can’t remember my face by now anyway. You were so young.

Your bright, forest encapsulating eyes filled the room with wonder, laughter, and creativity. Your eyes examined the world with so much hope, happiness, and drive for the future. I hope that never leaves you, like I did.

For a while I was lonely, you were my only company, I made playlists of my favorite songs and ones that reminded me of you so that when you learned to speak, you could sing at the top of your lungs to songs of hope, healing, wonder, and love… I never got to show you those songs, but please trust me when I say that I hope that when one happens come on the radio wherever you are, that you get a funny feeling, like you’ve heard it somewhere before.

I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry I was too young to understand how important you were to me. I’m sorry I only gave you three blankets. I’m sorry I was never there to tell you that it’s ok to feel emotion, to teach you how to ride a bike, to witness you first crush and heartbreak. I’m sorry that I was never there to tuck you in, or watch you grow up, or to watch you become a man. I’m sorry you never got to awkwardly ask me how to shave, only for me to laugh and record it. I’m sorry I never got to make one of these scrapbooks with bad old pictures that I could embarrass you in front of your friends with. I’m sorry it couldn’t be just us, trying our hardest. But I had to give you away, leave you alone, force myself to forget the regret.

But trust me when I say, I never forgot. I never stopped wondering how you were doing or how your day was going. I never forgot how your eyes held so much hope, passion, and wonder. I never stopped wondering about the day that your smooth skin had its first breakout, or when your beautiful green eyes would cry to me for the first time. I never forgot, I couldn’t forget, I didn’t want to forget. You were always too beautiful for this world, for me, for everyone. But I still regret that night like no other in my life. And I miss you… I’m sorry.

-- Mom