Everyone has the story of their life, and mine started with you. The real beginning I’ll put aside-- because I nor you know much about the first eight months of my life. To begin,  you and mom decided to adopt a child, and after months of paperwork you were the one to hop on a plane and fly to a little Asian country. Soon you took us back to that little, blue house on that quiet suburban street 8,764 miles away in New York. 

Happiness sprouted out of that house--I can remember doing so many things with you that gave me joy. We used to hike, play Wii games, and all sorts of other activities. Eventually, those things would come to an end-- there’s no reason to rehash why those things had to stop, but perhaps it would be prudent to talk about what happened after and why. It was difficult enough to find myself in this time, but to figure out how to have a relationship with you seemed impossible.

There were so many obstacles including a 13 hour time difference, feelings that just would not subside, and the small matter that you were now 8,058 miles away. While I like to think those were the main reasons you’re not a large part of my life anymore, I know that isn’t completely the truth. It may be because we both gave up a little bit. 

I didn’t want to give up on you, but I realize now that it perhaps was for the better that I did because I could step back and look at the entire picture, so I could determine what I want. You see, I will always want the dad that my inner twelve year old self had, but the man that my eighteen year old self has is a stranger, and the thing is with strangers is that you’re usually raised to avoid them for fear of “Stranger Danger”, but the real danger for me is hoping that you’ll be exactly like the dad you were five years ago. That’s not fair to you nor I because we’ve both changed, and holding onto that image isn’t bringing us closer-- it’s just pulling us apart, and I am tired of being pulled apart.  I love my dad, but I want to get the chance to know and love the man that you have evolved into.

Sincerely, 

Your daughter