On Mother’s Day, my classmates made handmade cards and brought flowers home.
I would sit at my desk, staring at the blank paper, unsure what to write.
Sometimes I imagined what my mother might look like. Would she have the same eyes as me? Would she laugh loudly? Would she have hugged me before bed and kissed my forehead when I was sick?
I had so many questions, but no answers.
Eventually, I stopped asking my father altogether.
I thought the mystery would remain with me forever.
Then, just after
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