Born Again

I was sitting at home when the call came;
I had the afternoon off and the house to myself.

I anticipated telling a telemarketer to get lost.

Instead I heard a shaky voice on the other end,
barely more than a whisper; after a few odd questions, she said:

“I think…I think you’re my mother…”

Thirty-four years later, and now I was back in that hospital room:
eyes bleary with tears so I couldn’t even read the papers I signed;
my shaky hand scribbling a signature that only resembled my own.

Thirty-four years later, and I still hadn’t figured out what I was going to say.
“Um…I hoped you might find me someday,”

My voice was barely more than a whisper, like hers,
but inside my heart screamed:

I just wanted you to be okay!! I just wanted you to be okay!!

“I hoped I would, too,” she whispered.

“Would you…would you like to meet?”
My body trembled the way it did
that day, as I went home without my child.

“I would love to,” she answered.

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