You have a daughter, or at least I presume she's yours. Her hair is as inky black as your own and she has the bluest eyes I've ever seen. I want her to be yours. I want to come home to you.

There's a ship leaving for Scotland in three days. The fee is outrageously expensive but at least it's a magical ship and not a muggle one. Sailing muggle ships throughout the winter is awful, you know. You can never find enough warmth below deck and every spray of water is like getting hit with ice. It's awful, truly.

Returning to you is all I can think of lately. The Americas are lovely and all, I suppose, if one's interested in that prosperous "American Dream". However, there isn't much room for prospering when you're a single woman with the lie of being a widow hanging over your head like a noose. I kept my name the same, I figured that was easiest but my dearest husband perished only a month into our marriage.

Just long enough to give me her.

Ilona. Our daughter.

She deserves more than what I'm able to provide her here on our own. She deserves family and holidays and joy, not this desperate attempt to flee from the most important relationship I've ever had. Even if you don't accept me back, I pray to God you learn to love her as I do. She is a miracle, after all. A tiny, perfect miracle.

We will be docking in Scotland in a few weeks. Please, don't turn her away.

Jo

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beautiful set by mj