The tape crackled as I peeled it away. The envelope slid into my lap, its paper yellowed, the flap sealed but not tightly. On the front, in my mother’s familiar handwriting, was a single word.
Alex.
My hands shook a little as I opened it.
Inside was a letter, shorter than some of the others, but somehow heavier.
My dearest Alexandra, it began.
If you’re reading this, it means you found your way back home. I knew you would. You’ve always been stronger than anyone gave you credit for—including yourself sometimes.
I glanced up at the horizon, swallowing.
This house isn’t just wood and stone, she’d written. It’s our history, our love, our legacy. But it’s not the legacy because it belongs to you; it belongs to you because of who you are. You are my greatest achievement, sweetheart. Not the garden, not the house, not any of the projects I poured myself into. You.Take care of this place if you can. Fill it with laughter and people who see you, not just who they want you to be. But more importantly, take care of yourself. Don’t let anyone convince you that you’re difficult for wanting to protect what matters. That’s not difficulty. That’s courage.
All my love,
Mom