I think about you often.  

There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of you, studying away in the Ivy League school that you've made your way into.  I think of the bright and full future that you have in front of you, and my chest swells with pride.  I wish that I could be a part of that life, but I know that will never be. 

I remember the times when it was just you and me against the world.  Then your little brother came, and a jealousy that spawned the ages entered our lives.  You hated him; still seem to.  But you put up with his existence because he is, after all, your brother.   Then your other brother came, and you found a partner in crime.  Then your little sister, who thinks the world of you and speaks of you with a sparkle in her eyes.  You see, she wants so desperately to be like "Sissy" when she grows up.

When you went to your Grandparents' that fateful summer of 2013, I had no idea you hated me so much you would never come back.  Phone calls and arguments ensued.  The back and forth between my stepmother and myself, some of which my father still says he was never privy to, did nothing but drain me.  

The final straw?  When I went to pick you up from school and the school board said they had no idea who I was, because your Grandparents told them I'd abandoned you.  And you believed it.  And that was never the case.   Ever.   In fact, I'd told them because of the recent upheaval in our lives I didn't mind if you stayed for the fall semester.  One.  Only one.  I arranged to pick you up at Christmas.  But once again, that didn't happen.

I had to make a decision then.  Try to deal with the two angry children that were hell bent on making the rest of the family absolutely miserable just to get their way, or salvage what I could of the family I had left. 

So that day in court, when they told me I'd abandoned you and never called and never written (I did, two to three times a week), that I had never asked for you to come home (which I did, several times), that I'd never asked about school (I did, constantly, and still do), I turned to your Grandparents and told them to rot in hell.   

Do I regret that?  Of course I do.  I love my parents very much.  They have been there for me in so many ways.  I love you and your brother so much it hurts.  Your grandfather apologized, and still does, for what happened.  He says he honestly has no idea how we got here.  Well, it's pretty simple:

I wasn't the greatest parent.  

I worked a lot.  Far too much now that I look back on it, and I was unable to be there for the fragile teenage girl that was blossoming under my radar.  I asked a lot of you, but I didn't think it any different than what hundreds of thousands of other teenagers have been asked to do.  But to tell me that making you do chores, which teaches you adult skills and responsibility, is akin to slave labor?  No.  A resounding hell no.  I left other people in charge of you and your siblings that had no more business being in charge of you than if I'd left a chimpanzee at the helm.  And for that, I will be eternally sorry.

I miss my daughter.  I know we will never have the relationship we once did.  I know that we will never be the best of friends.   But one day, in the not so distant future, I hope we'll try. 

Keep soaring in the clouds, Mighty.  I'll be watching.