Dear Son...

by WSJ

Disclaimer: I don't own YGO, and the song/poem was written by... I don't know who. *sweatdrop*


Dear Son,

Please try to understand.

It wasn't that I didn't want you, that I didn't love you. I did, oh I did. With all my heart. I wasn't supposed to, but I did.

Your father and I had been friends for a long time, and one night we were drunk... And you just happened. My parents wanted me to get an abortion, but I refused. I knew that even if I couldn't keep you, you had to live, because you were destined for great things. And I was right, wasn't I?

So my family and I, we desided that after you were born I would put you up for adoption. I didn't want to, but I was only fifteen, and I didn't have any say in the matter. So you were born, and the nurses tried to whisk you from my arms, keep me from ever seeing you, so that I wouldn't be tempted to keep you.

~I am not supposed to love you,~

But I saw you. I held you in my arms for just a second, and that one second was enough. You, my little son, had captured my heart completly. I screamed and cried, but my parents wouldn't let me keep you.

So I gave you away.

I never met your adoptive parents. I hope they're good to you, as I would have been. I sometimes pretend to talk to them, at night as I fall asleep, and they tell me about you. About your first steps, your first words, your first day of school.

But I still wish that you could tell me yourself.

~I am not supposed to care.~

It's been almost ten years now, and your father and I have gotten married. You have a little sister, and a little brother on the way. He and I still talk about you, and dream about you, and wish we could find you. But the adoption agency won't let us, no matter how many times we ask.

We've told your little sister about you, and she asks when she can meet you. It is with heavy hearts that we say she can't. She doesn't understand. Somehow, I hope you two meet someday, even if you never do realize you're related.

~I'm not supposed to live my life~
~Wishing you were here.~

What do you plan to do for a living, my son? A scholar? Athlete? Businessman? Maybe someday we'll see you, on the cover of Time magazine, or on a billboard somewhere.

What are you like? Do you twitch your nose the same way your father does when he's agitated? Do you run your hands through your hair when you're worried, like me? Do you use the same blunt speech as I, or dress it up like your father does? I wish I knew.

~I am not supposed to wonder who you are,~
~Or what you do,~

But know this my son, now and forever, your father and I love you. No matter what.

~But I'm sorry, I can't help it,~
~If I fell in love with you.~

We love you Tristan.

Mother, father, and little sister Tea.


WSJ: *grinning evilly*

Tristan: O.o; What the heck??????

Tea: O.O;

WSJ: *snickering* Well, I dunno. I was just wondering about your families, since they're never, ever mentioned... And this just took shape. *shrugs helplessly* Reviews onegai!

God bless minna-san!