My 47th birthday was quiet — only three plates on the table and one empty seat, a reminder of my daughter I hadn’t talked to in two years.
Every year, I still set a place for her, hoping it might somehow make her come back.
That night, when I made a wish in the quiet kitchen, I didn’t know the answer had been there all along — hidden in an old drawer.
After I finished washing the dishes, I found a birthday card I had never seen before. It was from my daughter, Karen, filled with loving words, apologies, and her address in Canada. My hands shook as I read it. She hadn’t really left me — her message just never reached me. For the first time in years, I felt something warm and alive inside me again.
The next morning, I told my husband, Brad, that I needed to find my daughter.
We went to see my ex-husband, Nigel, who awkwardly admitted that he had lost the card and forgot to give it to me. It hurt to hear that, but the letter gave me hope. Karen had wanted to reconnect, and I wasn’t going to waste another moment. That night, I packed my bag and left to make up for the lost time.
When I reached her house, the door opened before I could knock. There she was — older, calmer, but still my little girl. Without saying anything, she hugged me tight, and it felt like all those years apart disappeared. That day, I didn’t just see my daughter again — I also found forgiveness, love, and the missing piece of my heart.