Box 4129

In laid a card from Mr. and Mrs. Ramirez.
It began with "Dear Son,
I meant to tell you
lots of things
before you grew up
and began your journey
into the world..."

Peculiar, I thought. What held this person from
telling me these things?
The letters were calligraphic tendrils of gold,
On the face of blank printing paper.
It was folded and buttered with ink, to produce
The veneer of worn spiral notebook paper.
Silhouettes of bronze lilies hung behind the margins;
A message from a feminine source.

"There are things
you must hear,
words that'll only
come from someone
who's seen your face
from your first breath.
Someone who relives
the splendor
and momentous meaning of this day
every year..."

I seemed to wonder why she waited so long to tell me.
I withdrew from the message and underhandedly scanned the back
The name Hallmark was centered, donning its signature crown.
This author effectively maintained her anonimity
Despite her maternal angst.
My stomache hardened at the thought that I was given up for adoption.
This woman, my true blood mother, gave me up to the Ramirez family
because of her lack of financial support.
Until 20 years later she earned a job at Hallmark
So she could finally reach me.

"I want you to know
you're deeply loved now
just like you were then.
And in your life's course
my love will forever be with you.
Happy Birthday"

Love Mom and Dad, my surrogate parents wrote in pen,
As their way of saying, "Pretend these words came from us
And not a professional writer."
When in reality they thought they would cover a hidden message
To be their own.
U.S.A. 3.59
Canada 4.59
I may have other brothers out there.
I wailed on my beanbag with tears,
Wanting to know more about my distant mother
And where my true family resides.