I woke early that morning, got up and as I was walking to the kitchen, I saw a letter had been posted through my letterbox.

Evelina Torres, it was addressed to.

What could it possibly be? The only mail I ever get are the bills or about my student loan.

But this one was handwritten.

I felt the weight of it in my hands.

What could it possibly be? The only mail I ever get are the bills or about my student loan.

Curious as I was, I’d need a coffee first, so I went to my espresso maker and made myself a double espresso, sat down on the kitchen chair, still in my pyjamas, and studied the envelope.

Who has this neatly written handwriting?

Who even writes letters nowadays? Everything is digital: a text, an email — maybe IG?

I took a kitchen knife and gently sliced through the top of the envelope.

As I took out the papers and glanced over the writing again, a wave of familiarity came over me.

A wave of wonder, and hope.

I read the words carefully one by one, tracing along with my fingers, a hunger to know more and more about the words before me.

I don’t recall when it happened, but as I was still tracing the words, the ink on the paper became blurred.

I raised my hand to my face and that’s when I realized tears had formed in my eyes, spilling onto the pages.

I flipped the page and carried on reading, a longing growing in my heart.

As I got close towards the end, that’s when I lost it.

Because the words said:

'I love and accept you for who you are. Love, Mum.'

Laura Ribeiro