ALIVE

May 5, 2022

Dear Mother,

Are you sitting down? If not, please take this opportunity to have a seat.

Today, I was out running errands. Impulsively, for a nanosecond, I thought about sending you a card. Seeing thousands of cards on display, the stores were bursting with lovely adorable pink cards of all sizes that had beautiful sentimental verses, inflated heart-shaped balloons, and brilliant sweet-smelling flowers for Sunday's celebration of Mother's Day.

Naturally, people were in line making their cards and gift purchases.

Understandably, I began to have second thoughts. I could imagine the shock. Visualizing you opening a Mother's Day card from your daughter, that was proclaimed dead two decades ago.

Thinking, you can't write all the secrets that need to be written within the space of a greeting card. Confessing, there is so much that has to be said and shared.

It's definitely time.

Where to begin? Let's see!

Do you remember that weekend when I disappeared presumably drowned and later you had me declared dead? Do you remember? Perhaps, you don't, but I do!

Because you had an important modeling gig, you quickly gave me permission to go off with my friends. While it was a perfect warm and sunny day and the smell of salt water was in the air, my friends and I were aboard a tour party boat. We were invincible. We were drinking (Not liking beer, I sipped on one, since they were out of wine coolers.) and we were having a good time. It was a party boat and we were partying.

Suddenly, the boat was taking on water. Within minutes, the boat sank. Finding myself, in the cold water, miraculously, I had a life vest on. We were a little more than a mile offshore. Swimming to safety, I avoided people and the authorities. Surviving, I walked away from you and happily made a new life for myself.

While it is complicated, some of my earliest memories of traumatic events began back when I was in kindergarten.

When my stepdad left us to go treasure-hunting the week of Thanksgiving, I was five years old. At a young age, I wondered, "Who leaves their family stranded at Thanksgiving?" Do you remember this? Well, do you? As you know, at the time, you were a secretary. Unbelievably, the Jerk (my nickname for him) goes on an adventure taking the family car. Of course, he didn't find any treasure. Did he ever find any treasure? Never! Never! Never!

By throwing away his treasure maps and his treasure-hunting magazines and discarding them in the trash, I got my revenge. I confess that it was the only way to get back at him for a dreadful and unthankful Thanksgiving.

As you know, a few years later, the Jerk was gone. Admittedly, my prayers were answered when he was out of the picture. Was it a secret? Did you know that the Jerk was getting too friendly with my little friends? The pervert!

Understandably, it was hard to make ends meet on a secretary's salary. With that being the case, the broker at the real estate office had no trouble recruiting you and convincing you to study and obtain your real estate license. Between the real estate and the modeling gigs, things were starting to look better for you. On the other hand, you had no time for me or our family.

Leading up to Christmas, parties seemed to be a daily occurrence. Two days before Christmas, you got plastered. Soused! Drunk as a skunk! For some unknown reason, you broke and destroyed all the Christmas presents. It was horrid! Dreadfully, the worst was you having me tell everyone that I broke and destroyed all their presents. As an eight-year-old girl, I confess that lie was psychologically harmful. After several years of therapy with a psychologist, I have worked through the trauma.

Learning that you spent my inheritance from my parental dad, was the last straw. I confess that I didn't tell you then because I was outraged. It was either leave or do something stupid that I would regret. Surprisingly, finding myself in an unusual situation and opportunity, I chose to leave.

Since twenty years have elapsed, you are probably wondering why I am reaching out and writing you this letter? Briefly, after graduating from the University of Pennsylvania, I moved to Kansas and I wrote two novels. The third novel is about to be published. Amazingly, the novel already has a movie contract. Can you believe it? The novel is loosely based on your life. You are probably wondering about the title of the book and movie.

Currently, there is a working title that can't be divulged. The title will be made public once all the legal paperwork has been accomplished. Reaching out to you before the lawyers contacted you, I thought would be best to prevent any confusion or distrust on your part.

According to my contact, the lawyers are drawing up the paperwork and a contract regarding your receipt of a small percentage of the book and movie profits. The lawyers should be notifying you shortly. My guess is by the 4th of July.

Nevertheless, I will be renting out my home in Kansas and will be moving temporarily to the LA area. It isn't necessary to respond to this letter.

By the way, I'll be working as a consultant for the movie. This fact may or may not appear in the documents and contracts. Thought I should mention this piece of information. Once you hear from the lawyers, you should communicate directly with them.

Admittedly, celebrations are your thing. With the confessions and this news, I'm sure you will have a Happy Mother's Day!

No regrets,

Alive

P.S. My pen name is Penelope

This is a fictional letter and story. Disclaimer: "No animals were harmed or will be harmed. If the individuals in this story are similar to yours, or to actual events, or persons living or dead, it should be considered coincidental."