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Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #2027754
A writing prompt to address a family member in a picture
Portrait of a Letter (working title){/footnote}

I look at us and ache for simpler times of innocence. Times before my eyes knew the hours of the early morn alive with high pitched cries for help. A time before my knowledge of the seductive enticements of the secular world grew. Rewind to a time when bills didn’t exist and who knew what the gas prices were let alone the cost of milk. Go back to a time before you, before us.

You have been my blessing and I your curse. You kept me alive, giving me a reason to persevere; a reason to return to a time where my plate was balanced and not overflowing chaos; where my focus was noble rather than apathetic self-absorption. You child changed the center of my world. You child then became my world. Alas, I failed you; scarring you with shame, burning into your subconscious the sickness that is my life, bruising your very soul.

It’s not use. Moot point is my efforts. Failure was inevitable. A sheltered girl gone rogue with no indication of what was to occur next. A test like no other, shredding the very fabric of my paradigm. Grinding me into self-pity, doubt, and blame. My angst, pains, struggles, reality becomes a part of your story. This can’t be what they had in mind.

You see our supporters? They agree almost unanimously that I should raise you. Little did they know of my limitations, my present and future mental state. I had many clues, yet no idea. A child myself not yet fully developed. How was I to make such a decision?

Thanks be to short sight: you were always closer than you appeared. Thanks to nobility, entitlement, and pride: a winning combination for a spectacular foundation. Glory to knowledge without wisdom: arms folded hands tied. Hooray for presumption: vanity of many lies.

The struggle is cliché because it is very real. Oblivious then, certain now. Ready to rise to the challenge. Ready to thrive. My supporters may be right. The test may be possible to pass, but not before breaking me and molding me into your future blessing child. Although your future and present are not without many ills, I will face them with you and for you until you can take on a portrait all your own.

Oh how I long for simpler days of innocence. The care free joy and wonderment that was life, but at least I have you child: my portrait and silver lining.

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