dear x,

i wonder what i'd say to you when you come to exist, if you come to exist.

i wonder how you were born, but i guess this is a selfish kind of curiosity, because what i really want to know is why i decided to bring you into this world. where i was, what changed my mind, everything.

i know, i know. i'm navel-gazing. but i'm not grown up enough to stop, so just humor me for a bit.

are you anything like me?

because when i think of you growing up, i see your hands roaming brightly-colored climbing holds, chalk on the tip of your nose. i see your eyes sparkling the first time you learn about modular arithmetic, and you begging to play more pokémon, if pokémon games still exist. i see you walking along the beach with the wind in your hair, singing to the sunset and the waves.

i can't help but assume that you'll love the things i love.

there's no way to know, of course. maybe you do, and you are happier for having seen them with me early on in your life. or maybe you're nothing like me, and we spend our lives trying to understand each other.

but still, a life spent trying to understand you wouldn't be so bad, i think.

and oftentimes, i think it'd be better for you not to take after me at all. i know it would break my heart, watching you grow up fighting your body and your mind the way i did. illegible illnesses and indomitable feelings of inadequacy are not things i would wish upon my worst enemy, much less upon you.

but again, no way to know. all i can do is to teach you what i've learned so far, and hope that's enough to help you face your own life.

speaking of, do i teach you korean? i'm sure i will try, but maybe two generations is a gap too large and you won't pick it up without some effort from your grandma. but i promise you now—if that's what it takes, we'll go see her every weekend.

i hope it sticks, because this language is one of the greatest gifts she gave me, and it'd be such a shame not to give it to you, too. i can't imagine who i would be without it, and i can't imagine who you'd be without it, either.

can i ask another selfish question? who's your father?

i mean, i have an idea, but lives are long and foresight is not. heaven knows that my foresight is especially bad. all i know about him is that somehow he will have convinced me to have you.

that alone is impressive, for sure, but there's so much more i want to know. did i choose well? does he love us? is he a good dad? one of my greatest fears is that i will have condemned us by binding us to the wrong person. maybe there's no point in worrying, since it's a leap of faith in the end, but i still can't wonder what you're like without wondering what he's like.

but enough about him, this is really about me and you. and i have one last thing i want to tell you.

the world is beautiful. it is made for you, not the other way around.

i hope you'll let me show it to you.

love,
mom