To my dearest child:

I don’t know what your name is. I don’t know what you look like. I don’t even know if you’re a boy or a girl. All I know is that I really hope you find this, despite the disappointingly low chance that you will.

My name is Michael Jonathan Molten and even though it’s been sixteen years, I’m still as deeply in love with your mother as I was when I proposed. The night before your mother Cassandra and I were to be married she told me she was pregnant. The only problem was that she wasn’t sure if I was the father.

I was going to still take her as my wife, despite not knowing if you were mine, but the next morning—our wedding day—she was gone. No one knew where she went. She had run away, more than likely with the other man. She left me all alone with a severely broken heart.

Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if Cassandra and I had stayed together. What would my life have been like if she stayed with me? I would have a wife and child instead of being completely alone. I would have had you.

I know I’m a little late with trying to communicate, but it’s better late than never, right?

I want you to know I love you although we’ve never met. I love you even if you’re not my son or daughter, but I believe you are mine with my whole heart.





Your father,





Michael

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I wrote my short response to this stranger and placed it into the glass bottle his message arrived me. I put the cork in and closed my eyes.

The ocean’s waves lapped at my bare feet. I inhaled, opened my eyes, and swung my arm. I threw the bottle as far as I could with all my strength. It went flying and disappeared into the deep blue water.

“Good luck,” I whispered. I hoped my message would reach him like his reached me. I hoped the stranger would find my answer…

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To Michael Jonathan Molten:

I am a girl, and I am yours.


Your daughter,




Michaela Molten-Danes