Dear little one,

I know it’s been hard for you. All this time has passed, and you do not know what has happened. I smile, caressing your soft cheek and wiping the tears from your lonely eyes. Let me tell you what happened and what we should have done in certain cases. Most of the time, Ma was right, and we needed to listen to her. Oh, but that stubborn little head of ours, we think we know what’s best. We don’t. I pick you up and place you on my lap, and then I already know the first question you will ask. “What happened to our eye?” I sigh and pat your head. It was our own self-loathing and self-sabotage ways. We were supposed to keep track of it, to always put our drops on. “Put your drops on,” Ma always says, and when I moved out with Mama, I stopped doing it.

I know what you’re going to say, “Why?” and frankly, I cannot for the life of me figure out what happened. I’m scared of not being able to see, not being able to draw or write anymore, and then I do this? We could have had our eyes fine until we were old, but no, my self-sabotaging ways had to get in the way. I started fine, driving everywhere, and going to work, and then gradually the darkness overwhelmed me. Then I went blind in my left eye. They would have left it in if it wasn’t for the glaucoma making it throb and hurt because, you know, insult to injury. A surgery to stop the pain only for it to get worse to the point they just decided to take my eye. As I sit here and look at you, I realize that it hasn’t even been 6 months since the surgery. How am I dealing with it? I place that fake smile that we are known for and just carry on. I got a prosthetic, and people can’t even tell it’s fake. Of course, we feel sad, and I know I need to go to therapy and trust me, it is well needed. I didn’t get married around my 20s like we thought (but who am I kidding in this dating pool? Right?) no kids and a good thing too, found out with all that sleepiness back growing up that it was narcolepsy. Whatever happens, just know we are working towards our dreams and we are never giving up.

We lost a lot of friends along the way, but the ones that stayed are the real ones, the ones we cherish the most. My heart aches for the loneliness and depression you’ll go through, but that only made us tougher and more aware of the world.

Don’t you worry, little one, it’s not all bad. We’ve met wonderful people too. One in particular is a wonderful soul. We connect on another level, even if the age gap is big. She makes us laugh, and sometimes cry with the emotional things they say. She gave us confidence about our art, ourselves, and everything we do. She will live on in my heart. We’ve met friends, and even though we were scared to, we found some love in others even if the time was short. Time is fleeting, and I know you’re worried we will not live past the age of 30 or that we will never have kids or fall in love. But I’m here to say to you that it’s not always going to be as it’s planned. Learned about myself, to say the least. My dreams and ambitions are more important than silly things to worry about like husbands and kids. Our love grows, and being an artist has taught me I could leave my mark in this world with beautiful art or even with the stories I love to work on. Don’t sell yourself short, little one, our art is unique in its ways, and there may be times when we think it’s worth nothing, but I’m here to tell you to think like that because I have become a part of my work, and I believe it is beautiful, just like me. I place you down from my lap and watch that frown turn into an unsure smile, but I know you got this as I watch you run into the world known as our future.