I know you never wanted me here. I get it. When we were little girls dreaming of our futures, neither of us planned for each other. This wasn't how things were supposed to be at all, actually. It was supposed to be the pretty house, filled with happy kids and a marriage that would stand the test of time. Maybe your vision even included some playful puppies, too. It certainly didn't contain parenting schedules, shared holidays, or child support. Then to top it all off, there I was. This life you built was never meant to include me. And I understand, I really do. The thing is, I'm not sorry.
I'm not sorry for marrying your ex-husband. He was the best thing to ever mess up my own life plan. I'm not sorry for being a mother to the daughter you birthed. She is smart and quirky and she has your hair. I love her. I'm not sorry for insisting on coming to parent-teacher conferences, or for scheduling hair appointments, or watching her dance every Friday or for any other way I have intruded into the world that was supposed to be only for you. I am not sorry for my existence here. I don't mourn for your shattered plans any more than I do my own, and I'm unashamed of the scars given to me by the leftover pieces.
I tell you this, not out of anger, but from the birth of my own peace. I do not carry guilt any longer. The guilt that perhaps I put on myself, or society put on me, or that the daycare teacher who just didn't want to listen to the '"stepmom" planted in my brain. Or, perhaps, from you. I have shut up and sat down, I have been looked down on and pushed aside, I have cried and fought like hell with my own head; all over something I had no control over. Today, I choose peace. I choose unapologetic, loud, messy peace. The only weight on my shoulders is the crazy amount of love I have for that beautiful, crazy girl you gave me.
