I meant to write this to you yesterday, on your birthday.
It makes me sad to know that I do not even know exactly how many years you have shared this planet, shared the same blood, shared the same last name, shared the same father.
Pero no, we haven’t shared the same father have we? And there is the point of out connection and disconnect.
From what I can tell, by the grace of the world wide web that holds spaces for us both, you have grown into a healthy, beautiful, strong, intelligent, and talented Puerto Rican woman. It’s hard to imagine you as a woman though, since the last time I saw you, you were still a child, giggling, playful in the country of our origin. You are now in college, have a job, and want to write. Ah the irony, you want to write. It makes me smile and want to weep.
Hermana, the younger of my two sisters. The middle child among us three children born from la Trocha en Vega baja. You my not believe me, you may not care, but I think of you often. I dream of you often, you as innocent strawberry blonde.
I don’t know what you have been told about me, the reason for my absence, the reasons I and your other sister have decided to pull ourselves away from our father. It’s complicated and tangled and may never be able to become undone. It is a line knotted before your birth, it is a line that garbles the messages sent and never received. It is a perverse game of telephone where what is said, felt, and done never is translated as originally intended.
Hermana. L.C. My forever baby sister, Even if that call never goes through, know that I am immensely proud of you, the niña you were, the person you are and do not have the pleasure of knowing, and the for the mujer you create a path towards the future to walk on.
Feliz Dia and Feliz Forever.
M.E.O.
