Sara twirled the pen between her fingers, every now and then touching the tip to the blank piece of paper before pulling it back quickly. She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there, considering the words she wanted to write.
The letter seemed like a great idea, a cathartic one perhaps and ultimately, it didn't have to reach its recipient, but even with that knowledge there was something holding her back. How could she explain to anyone what she could barely explain to herself? That she abandoned everything and everyone that ever mattered to her in order to face the one thing she'd spend a lifetime trying to escape, the one thing she'd been robbed of, the one thing she was now trying to salvage: her family.
After a few more futile attempts, the pen finally lingered on the white page, forming the beginning of what might have been the hardest letter she'd ever have to write.
I'm not sure why I'm writing to you ... I just need to talk to someone, I guess and I thought you might understand. Well, actually that's a lie, I don't expect you to understand but I know you won't judge me (or I like to think you wouldn't). I'd like to say it's because we're family but I've learned the hard way that sometimes that doesn't mean anything. I feel like I was born with a scarlet letter tattooed on my chest -A for Abuse-and I carried it around thinking it was my chief duty to honor my family. Along the way I forgot to honor myself- nobody should ever forget to honor themselves, but I digress. What I mean is that I'd like to think that DNA is the least of what we share, although, sadly, at this very moment, I can't say I know you.
I wanted to talk about why I left Vegas. More importantly, why I left him. Isn't that, after all, the question on everyone's mind? Why I walked away from the best thing that's ever happened to me? For all I know you might not even be aware that I left my life behind with a letter to my fiancé as only explanation and I'm digging myself a hole by telling you this... But people talk, so you might know more than I think and I don't want you to think less of me.
To be fair, it was actually a well thought out letter. Although leaving seemed like the only option at the time, I know it was a great act of cowardice. Truth is, I would have loved nothing better than to bring him along, but I couldn't bear to have him witness my weakest moments as I was sure to break down several times through this dreaded trip down memory lane. I know now as I'm writing this that I need him more than ever, but a few weeks ago I really did think I was making the right decision for him. I could barely stand my own company, never mind forcing it on someone else. Someone I love more than anything else.
I love you, too, of course-did I say it enough? Probably not, but I like to think that our bond is one of a whole different nature that doesn't require words. The overwhelming love I feel for you is foreign, yet so familiar.
If I'm being honest, up until about a few months ago I never allowed myself to think of you...Is that a horrible thing to admit to your own flesh and blood? Of course, there'd be the occasional time when the sight of a mother and daughter would make me long for you but it was easier to bury those thoughts and pretend I didn't need that kind of relationship in my life. I'd convince myself that you'd be a burden, a constant reminder of my former miserable existence but in reality I was afraid to be a great disappointment to you.
Sara brought the pen to her lips, chewing on the end of it as she reread the words. The characters were getting blurry but she barely noticed; tears had become a constant companion since she left. The floodgates had been opened and she knew better than to try to stop them; she was crying a lifetime of held back tears and she knew this was only the beginning.
She dug into her purse, looking for a tissue, but instead her fingers found the picture she'd been carrying around. It was worn and she could barely make out any features but Sara knew it was the most beautiful face she'd ever seen. She traced the form slowly, trying to muster the courage she needed in order to finish the letter.
When I got that faithful call, when I heard about you, it was just the catalyst of something that had been a long time coming. I don't blame you for the proverbial rock bottom I hit. Please don't ever think that, but it is partly because of you that I had to leave Vegas. I couldn't invite you into my life, into our lives, without first going back and making peace with the past. I didn't want you to meet the shadow of a person I had become. It might sound odd, but I had to reclaim my true identity in order to even allow myself to feel anything for you.
You have to understand that when you spend a lifetime convincing yourself that you don't need or want a family...When you are a witness to countless crimes committed by the very people who are suppose to protect and love each other unconditionally, the thought of having somebody depend on you, of being someone's mother, is terrifying.
But here you are. This tiny little alien-looking thing settled comfortably below that bump -that's getting harder to hide by the way- and I already can't imagine my life without you. One day, when you're old enough I might give you this letter and I might or might not tell you about my trip...But the only think really worth knowing is this: I've learned that although no one can go back and make a brand-new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand-new ending.
And from now, is where I'm starting, with you and your daddy as my family.
Sara scribbled her name before putting a line through it and carefully printing the word she never thought would be used to describe herself...Mom.
She looked one last time at the sonogram picture, seeing so much hope in that distorted image, before carefully folding the letter around it and placed both items in an enveloped addressed to Gil Grissom. A simple note- We're coming home!- was added before sealing it.